The Ocean in a Teacup, and Other Overestimations
by tigerowl
Summary: Nothing comes cheap during a war, but Zabuza will pay his dues as he trains apprentices and mobilizes the Seven Swordsman to usurp leadership of the Hidden Mist Village. Students Haku, Suigetsu and Kimimaro intend to realize their full potential as shinobi and learn to become cutting-edge in a backwards society. AU
1. Portrait of Momochi

_**A/N: First off, I am aware that I ought to devote my undivided attention to a particular story I have been sluggish in completing…and I deserve to be flogged, publicly, probably…But if you, reader, were really so upset with my pace then you more than likely would not have stopped by to (have mercy on me) check this new hatchling of a story. Additionally, shame on the canon plot for not involving the Seven Swords actively. The territory is sorely unexplored and thrown in haphazardly to add some Mist Village**__**flava' to the story. **_

_**This is, for all intents and purposes, AU…particularly because most characters included are dead, missing, or for the most part sparsely mentioned in canon. So don't run screaming just yet. Imagine: before your favorite blonde protagonist was but a glimmer in his papa's eye, there was…**_

_**an irritable, shrewd, iconoclastic teen Zabuza.**_

* * *

A textbook lay open on the table, battered and coffee-stained from its past users. The text gleamed up in fine black ink:

_Section One: Origins of Ninja Villages_

_One hundred and twenty-three years ago, the word "shinobi" held an underlying reverence that was never spoken lightly. A person was either a warrior of this title or a commoner__ a laborer, a farmer, or a fisherman who spent his days working while listening to wild tales of combating ninja. They lived vicariously through the experience and woes of wandering shinobi, whose clans battled endlessly for superiority. In a way, their detachment from such a grand lifestyle, though humbling, was greatly appreciated by the proletariat. The old belief was: "be yourself, carry yourself__ be a shinobi, carry a sword."_

_That is to say, this was an idea that had been long preserved by the drifting clans. So it was quite a shock to many common folk who learned that the famous Senju clan, renowned for their terrible power, had settled along with a number of allied clans to live in harmony. Such a thing was unheard of, but after the Senju established their home in a vast forest, christening it Konohagakure (see section five), other nomadic tribes of shinobi found it a vain effort to challenge them. By living in one place and pooling their strength, shinobi dwelling in Konohagakure drove back opposing invaders, crushing and humiliating them._

_Seeing no other way to rival the power of the Leaf Village, shinobi from hundreds of other clans spread out over the land, gathering into their own veiled communities. Newly organized and tempered for battle, ninja were presented with a new issue__ providing for themselves._

_Commoners were invited to live in the security of shinobi villages, so long as their services and crops were readily available. The symbiotic relationship between assassin and their guarded civilians was not always equitable among the villages. In the Hidden Village of Sand (see section three) for example, shinobi living in the desert relied heavily on the imports from neighboring lands. Not all farmers found the place appealing, but as long as the money was fair they contributed to the desert's inhabitants. In contrast to the movement, there was an eclectic congregation of clans who had migrated away from the mainland to a cluster of islands to the east._

_Section Two: Abridged History of Kirigakure_

_These "off-shore" shinobi valued their independence above all other things. Of course civilian aid had become necessary for their blossoming village as well, but shinobi did well to coldly remind them of their inferiority. Life in the Land of Water was unforgiving, and commoners survived with great difficulty alongside the ninja of what came to be called the Hidden Mist Village._

_While ninja settlements in the other five countries invested in the arts and betterment of their village as a whole, Mist was always inclined to dote on its military before other matters. They practiced a type of socialism, or a political system of ownership. Being it was a village hailing from the smallest country it quickly became the most aggressive of all the shinobi provinces. Bloodshed was not an unusual practice for the first leaders of the Mist Village to gain cooperation from another village. By the Second Mizukage's time, however, Mist seemed to withdraw from inter-village squabbles. _

_Clans of the Water Country were rich and greatly respected. The wandering bands that had once been so volatile preferred to stay in their great estates, waiting for provocation to enter a battle rather than seeking one. Some thirty years after the Mist Village's founding, focus was shifted to the economy, which was suffering considerable dips. Isolation that was practiced during this time consequently made Mist ninja unfamiliar with fighting shinobi from outside villages. The reputation of Kirigakure faltered, struggling to balance its military and economic needs…_

Zabuza stopped reading at that point.

It was a foreign text from the mainland; after all, of course the information would be flawed. The genin from Grass who'd had it with him obviously had not taken Mist ninja seriously in the fight that had resulted in his death. His pillaged belongings now sat on a cracked pine table in Zabuza's apartment. The Anbu sifted through the items, stewing over the book's misinformation.

It had not even accurately touched upon the Third's achievements. It skipped right over that period, bursting into present-day Mist that was supposedly led by the "cunning Fourth" who had allegedly "begun dramatic trade efforts with other countries." It was insulting. It made him want to kill the undereducated mainland dolts even more.

If they even knew the first thing about Mist, they would know the biggest issue was civil war, and not the economy. Arguably the two could go hand in hand, but it all fell to who was in power and whoever was in power was never popular. The Mizukages tended to follow a pattern of management, the first being aggressive, and the successor being a shirker. The First and Third Mizukages had probably been the most assertive and valuable to the village, while the other two had been loud-mouths blowing a lot of hot air.

Zabuza kept some of the weaponry that was in better shape. He shoved the textbook, the souring rations, and the outdated scrolls back into the satchel. He crossed over to the window of the kitchenette, throwing up the shutter, and then tossed the pack outside. It fell two stories down into the street below. Curses drifted up from the road, and Zabuza shut the window ritually. He was a polluting, conniving, nineteen-year-old who was sick of being in the Anbu. Sick of it because he'd already had a taste of something better a squadron of unmatched skill.

It had been nearly a year since the Seven Shinobi Swordsman of the Mist had been dissolved. The Third Mizukage had been the visionary who had organized the splinter cell. The faction had consisted of all types, young and old, clan-bred and mixed, wild and composed. They had all been fixated with bewitched swords, or derivatives of such blades. They answered to the Third without question, accomplishing mind-bending tasks, and prevailed over any and every enemy. They had privileges other shinobi did not. Zabuza had been skilled for his age, but today he agonized over the memories, _'If I had known then what I know now…I wouldn't be one of the Fourth's goddamn lapdogs.'_

When the Third had died the Seven simultaneously fell from grace. The new Mizukage did not see a practical use for them with his new reforms in place. Many in the village had been glad the Third perished abruptly. His training methods for gennin were considered cruel, and he had often been called a "child-murderer." Without him, though, the village suffered. The Fourth was foolish and impulsive.

Zabuza took the last of the chicken and rice from the refrigerator. He was losing his appetite just thinking about the Fourth. He took grudging bites from the bowl, aware of how by this time tomorrow he would be on another mission. It was the Fourth Mizukage, Miura Kyonjin, who was actually responsible for the current civil war Mist was embroiled in.

The long and short of it had to do with control. Once in office the Yondaime had started reforms, modifying the gennin training program to be less…bloody. Ninja were almost always preoccupied on missions, or rather, fighting skirmishes in the countryside. The goal Kyonjin had pursued relentlessly since the start was the complete unification of the Water Country's clans. They were not all, in fact, allied with Mist, since they usually possessed enough power to protect themselves separately.

Kyonjin's insistence that they unite for one cause (Mist) was overly radical, often offensive to the ancient families. He yearned for the day they would all be under his power, creating one of the most formidable militaries of all the five countries. It had never been done before, and with reason. What he had overlooked was that once the clans finally did unify (after his molestations) it was not something he could order executively.

In Leaf, clans had joined forces willingly, if not eagerly, after seeing its advantages. The loose connections between clans in Mist were deliberate, due to the fact that they took pride in their independence. The way the Mizukage had so brashly approached the matter had insulted the major clans of the Water Country, and when a compromise could not be reached, turmoil erupted.

War had been declared on Mist, or on Kyonjin, more specifically. Zabuza snorted at the thought of the idiot's political blunder. Unintentionally, the Fourth had succeeded in unifying the clans in the Land of Water, though they were all totally opposed to him.

The classic irony of greed had bowled him over, and still, Kyonjin was fighting the good fight for the sake of his pride. He would not back down or apologize or compensate in any way. He might have regretted disbanding the Seven Swords, by then, but remained silent on the matter. He stood by and watched his shinobi suffer in battles that were pointless. Infighting. All oblivious to the possible threat of outside countries.

Nothing would delight Zabuza more than gutting the spineless fish himself.

* * *

Kyonjin sat at his desk, which had recently been relocated to a higher office in the administrative building. Some filing cabinets still sat empty on the side of the room, waiting to be of use. He balanced a cigarette holder near his mouth with a long-fingered hand, taking a drag now and then while he read another furious threat that had been sent from the Yuki clan. He was forty-nine but he looked sixty. He had smoked all his life, and it was a habit he could not shake, especially during such stressful times.

Deep lines of concentration were etched on his face, and his gray side burns reached down his jaw-line in a dramatic sweep that made his frown look permanent. His skin was ashy and unhealthy looking; eyes dark and swollen from reading the endless documents that demanded his surrender to the clans who despised him. These days he replied to them with self-assured insults, knowing that no amount of sweet-talking would get him on their good sides again. It would not be long, he noted, before he would have to send his Black Ops back out again.

The Mizukage was aware of how it would be an inconvenience to the Anbu unit he was dispatching to the outskirts. Several of his warriors were part of a generation he and his advisors had come to call "The Stains." It was a reference to their bloody childhoods, which were all a direct result of the quarrelling aristocracy of Mist. The Mizukage had found that the altered graduation exam, seven years earlier, had produced few but exceptional shinobi. It was that exam that had many critics.

Most had labeled the Third a heartless tyrant for sanctioning the graduation requirements proposed. After all, more children had died in that era than in any other time in Mist's recorded history. Some blamed the decision on the weakened state of the village. Kyonjin was taking a more modern approach to enhance Mist's forces, compared to the Third. Some still agreed with the old training, but the majority supported the Fourth's reforms. Once the killing requirements of the exam had been revoked, more shinobi had joined the ranks of Mist's military, but none were as effective or respected, Kyonjin conceded, as stained generations.

The Mizukage's stained Anbu, after he had summoned them that afternoon, were clearly in no condition to fight. Three of the eight were still stinking drunk, one suffering from a knee injury not yet healed, two with pressing family duties, and another who must have been under the influence of some tranquilizer. Kyonjin accepted their weakened states in good humor, but the eighth member of the squadron, not in the slightest impaired, had bothered him most of all.

He was the youngest of the group, still a teen, and very egotistical. Eyes like black steel cut across the room towards him, and the Mizukage was too proud of a man to admit his anxiety. This was the last child who had made an example of the famed graduation test since it had been revised. Seven years and four ranks later he was a lean, disciplined shinobi, and a supreme example of everything the Mizukage expected of one of his elite. Faultless, did not speak unless spoken to, and a highly effective killer.

Kyonjin leaned back in his desk chair, taking a puff on his cigarette, _'No…I can hardly stand this one.' _

Personal prejudice counted for little. He hardly had a reason to expunge the man beyond sensing his negative aura. The Mizukage noted that **this** one was the reason why all Anbu were required to remove their masks in the private council of their village leader. A standard of protocol had been set, simply because Momochi Zabuza intimidated the Mizukage.

No one was privy to this knowledge, thankfully, because it would have quickly been acted upon. In war time Kyonjin took no risks. The Mizukage had already weathered two failed assassination attempts, and his trust, in his Anbu guards and his pig-headed diplomats, had dissolved significantly. In fact, he was so desperately concerned with his own well-being that his own village was crumbling around him. Mist was war-torn, starved, thirsty (in the _Water _Country,) filthy, demoralized, and ridden with poverty.

Kyonjin's movement for unification throughout the Land of Water had slashed funds that had been going to the larger clans. The clans retaliated with such devastating force the uttering of Kekkei Genkai could send crowds scattering. Mist shinobi battled exhaustingly, nearly half a year running, against the clan revolutionaries. As far as the Mizukage was concerned, the clans' defeat was imminent. Outnumbered, ill-supplied, and deprived of rights, they would all be erased by the time he was through with them.

That was another reason, he thought: Zabuza did not support the campaign.

"Pointless," Zabuza had called it "wasteful." The Mizukage did not trust him, even when he had proven to be totally obedient. What had Momochi said? _'The clans don't __**need **__to be unified so long as they contribute to the interests of Mist.' _Killing was a complete waste of resources, breeding, and bloodline limit.

In one respect, Kyonjin reluctantly agreed with the idea. He had his own _collection _of gifted ninja. Loyalists who possessed Kekkei Genkai, who held the Mist Village in higher esteem than their own families. They were useful weapons against their own kind. No reason to fight fair, the Yondaime thought, which brought him back to why he had assembled the team.

Another raid had erupted in a neighboring village. No one there was actually with a clan, but the people who lived there had been sending complaints. Their town was being sapped of food and supplies, allegedly, by active ninja who were resting there. After many weeks of hateful toleration the villagers had easily chased out the tired chunin and jounin with pitch forks and bricks.

'_Unacceptable.' _The Mizukage thought. Who were they to interfere with the war? Had their self-sufficiency disappeared? To demand aid from a parenting village at such times was unthinkable. Battles were raging, and they deserved no more comfort than that of their combating brethren.

"Kill them all," Kyonjin told the team, "Silence their whining. They aren't worth the meager taxes they generate as it is."

They still looked a bit unsettled, but his Anbu understood the command and agreed to see it done. One of the drunken ninja was adamant in destroying the ineffectual peasants, "We'll stomp them out, Kyonjin-sama, like insects!"

The Mizukage regarded him for a moment, and then advised, "Sober up, why don't you?

You may go at dusk." With their departure pushed back the Yondaime hoped they could get a grip on themselves.

He dismissed them and the Anbu filed out of the office, some replacing their masks and others too stressed to bother. The Mizukage stood, glancing out of the tower window, somewhat dissatisfied with the view. The hair on the back of his neck was on end, and he realized after a moment he was not alone.

Zabuza had lingered after the others had gone. Kyonjin adjusted his robe before facing him, a tendril of cigarette smoke rising as he exhaled, "Can I help you, Momochi-san?"

"It seemed like you had something more to say, Mizukage-sama." He pointed out, his tone emotionless.

"Oh, it's nothing that concerns you, my friend." Kyonjin chuckled, taking another drag, "Dismissed."

Zabuza left without any further delay, and the Yondaime returned to his spot in front of the window.

On the off chance that the Momochi brat was not a calculating bastard, he was no doubt an obsessed murderer. He would not be able to contribute to society beyond eliminating unfit members from it. Kyonjin had faith his war-dogs would crush the clan opposition, but when they were through, he wondered if they would be tempted to attack their own master.

* * *

Most of the Anbu had just gone back to the bar after the meeting. A few had gone home to check up on their families, and as they disappeared from the street with thoughtless ease, Zabuza had found a perch on top of an industrial building.

The fading summer heat created a disgusting haze that blanketed the lower half of the village. The war had not helped seasonal damages, drought and epidemic included. Rooftops provided an escape from the merciless heat, with the occasional breeze as an added comfort.

Zabuza stared out back towards the tower. It was only in the past year he had begun to notice Kyonjin's nervous behavior. _'He's afraid of me for some reason.' _He thought to himself, _'I guess that means he's not a total moron.'_

* * *

By evening they had already reached the outskirts. The Anbu fanned out across the town, and positive cheers from the villagers expecting aid shifted to shrieks of terror.

People scattered as a storm of metal rained down; many dropped lifelessly with knives lodged in their backs. Those that fled were caught quickly, finished by a jab to the neck or a rake of a sword. Many retreated indoors and had their homes ransacked by fire jutsu. It was perfect, glorious chaos and screams grew fewer as the dead piled up in the streets.

Zabuza had come across a young girl in muddied clothes, taking refuge behind her mother's body. For a moment he studied the cowering child. She would die anyway, incapable of surviving without a parent. "Come here." He said roughly.

She shrank back, clinging to her mother's blood-stained yukata. It would be easier just to swipe her with his Seversword, he thought, noting the meter gap between them. Then again, it would be a pointless expenditure of energy. He stepped over her mother, kneeling down, "Come here." He managed to speak more softly.

The girl edged nearer, eyes watery. She stared at the white and red mask obscuring Zabuza's face. "Will you take me away from here?" She asked in a squeak.

"Yes." He said, letting her take her time to creep forward into his waiting arms. She had relaxed. It was better that way. Zabuza snapped the child's neck swiftly, instantly killing her, and laid her down beside her mother. He hated children, because killing them always reminded him of how short a time ago they had been born.

Back out in the square a ring of buildings and huts glowed in the dim evening light. Anbu strolled in and out of the fire, bringing with them pilfered goods and food.

"Eh, lookee here." A less-than-sober squadron member was covered head to toe in blood. He held up a large porcelain jug for Zabuza to see, "I saved some of the sake. I'll share it with you later, Zabu-kun."

"I wouldn't trust the piss they keep in those urns." He retorted moodily. He could understand that some needed to be drunk to commit such atrocities like the one at hand, but Zabuza preferred a clear mind while he worked.

Silence settled in. People and livestock alike laid pitifully in the streets. The Anbu left after twilight, letting the town smolder away and reduce the defenseless victims to cinders.

* * *

Kyonjin was impressed with their good work, and paid them for their trouble. No doubt the funds would be used to pay rent and get drunk.

Zabuza had left with the money in a foul mood. He had changed into normal jounin attire, all the while disgusted by how his position only warranted him the right to cater to the Mizukage's every whim. The tasks had become so mundane and routine it was nearly a waste of time.

The Anbu units, the way Zabuza viewed it, were only positions for shinobi with considerable power. The teams served as a cage a constructive outlet for those who had become too strong for the Mizukage to monitor. As if their power was not being squandered enough, Kyonjin was now using the Anbu to fight the war for him.

While platoons of jounin and chunin fought on the front lines, Anbu attacked the homesteads of each clan; methodically killing and kidnapping unsuspecting family members until the rebellion leaders surrendered. It was a brutally effective strategy, although some clans continued fighting, disregarding the threats.

Zabuza's main quandary was that most of the people he fought against were (or had been) his allies. The Hoshigaki and the Abe families, for example, housed two former teammates from the Seven Swords. He had not yet come across his old friends, but when he did, blood would be inevitable. It could even be his, since he was stuck in the Mizukage's top Anbu squadron…not necessarily by choice.

He cut through the lower district, wondering if he might find a cheap whore somewhere. His search was interrupted by a familiar face. A young man with silvery-blue hair and violet eyes had skirted the corner to keep out of sight. Zabuza followed half-thinkingly, still unclear about the sneak's identity. _'Definitely a shinobi.' _He reasoned. It was hard to miss how the kid had disappeared on the spot.

Zabuza came up from the opposite side of the street, avoiding the crowd, and again spotted the slinking nin. He was at a roadside vender, quickly picking things from a food stand. Zabuza came up beside him, finally remembering him from two years before, "Try not to look so damn conspicuous, Mangetsu."

Mangetsu's eyes skirted over to Zabuza, and he sighed with relief, "Whew…just you, Zabuza. We just needed things to eat since you can't buy a thing outside Mist. I almost got toasted earlier this place is fucking crawling with mercenaries."

"No more so than usual." Zabuza pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're…they're after us now, aren't they?" Mangetsu lowered his eyes, "They want to kill everyone who's from a clan…my brother's got to stay shut up at home all the time because they'll rip our heads off if we go outside."

"You are going to get hit if you stay here much longer. Not everyone's on duty now, but with the way you try to sneak around like an elephant they'll spot you in a second." The older shinobi smirked, "You should take your groceries and run."

"I'm sick of running. Sick of hiding. This persecution bullshit has got to fucking stop." Mangetsu muttered, "My dad is drowning himself in alcohol, you know. That's why I'm here. If I don't find food he sure as shit won't because he sits around and drinks like a fish." He laughed bitterly at the idea, "A fish…"

"You should leave."

Mangetsu sighed, and then tossed money at the shopkeeper for the foodstuffs. "I…I really don't think I can go on like this. I'm gonna lose my mind if I stay in this fucking country much longer…" He looked sidelong to Zabuza, "Hey…do you think you know? The gang will be back? If the Swords join up again we can stop this political shit-toss, I know it's "

"They're not coming back. Half of you have blood limits anyway." Zabuza dismissed the idea, although he himself ached for it, "You'd be wasting your time fighting for the opposite cause."

"Your cause is mine, though." Mangetsu told him, "That's not gonna change." He took his shopping bag, slung it over his shoulder, and bolted to return home undetected. The next time he was in Mist he would probably be killed on sight. There probably wasn't going to be a next time, come to think of it.

Zabuza returned to his apartment, realizing that he was on the wrong side. The only saving grace he had was his lack of a Kekkei Genkai.

* * *

Yuki Kamisori was a patient man. He prided himself on his level-headedness in battle and life in general. He also felt that he gave off a much-too-approachable vibe to people sometimes. He was handsome, slender, and well-dressed obviously clan-bred. These outwardly visible traits attracted trouble.

The sun was setting on the horizon, shimmering shades of fire, and he had thought it to be a very pleasant evening before he'd heard a snide comment from somewhere. Kamisori had been minding his own business on his way to the club, but a fat, unshaven mechanic wolf-whistled from inside a window. He then called out, addressing the obvious, "Well look there! A pretty clan-boy on his way to the disco to pick up some girls…or some other pretty boys!" His guffaws trailed after. Kamisori ignored the comments.

The grub added onto his insults, "You're all the same pricks from those clans. They should all be ground up into fish-paste, that's what! Won't be long now before Kyonjin-sama sends his dogs after you…lets them rape you and hang your head up on a wall!"

Kamisori had disappeared from the sidewalk. The man had a moment to blink stupidly before a hand fisted around his shirt collar and pulled him bodily out of the window and into the street. Kamisori threw him to the pavement roughly, listening to the thud of meat, and stomped hard on the worm's gut. His mismatched eyes glared sharply at the big-mouth.

"Your opinion of me is…so very high…" Kamisori spat, "Tell me, what do you make of yourself? Think yourself a prince? A gem? You're a scab who freeloads off the system…" He crushed the fat man's gut beneath his boot, hearing the resulting wheeze.

"I d-didn't…I-I " He couldn't respond adequately after spying the kunai spinning in the ninja's palm.

"You don't know me." Kamisori's voice was icy, "As it so happens, I am one of Kyonjin-sama's proponents…he actually likes shinobi with Kekkei Genkai in his service, contrary to your misconceptions."

"P-puh-please…d-don't hurt me…" The grub pleaded, his eyes fixed on the twirling knife.

Kamisori knelt down, hooking the kunai's ring with his finger. "You know, it's people like you who make me sorry I fight this war in the first place." He told the man, "Do you want me to show you what I do to my enemies?"

"N-No!"

"I think I will."

"_N-No, please!"_

Kamisori pressed the kunai against the man's cheek, and rather harmlessly scraped the blade upward. Some of the grub's whiskers floated down to the pavement.

"Good day, cretin." The shinobi told him. He tossed the knife carelessly and it _thunked _into the wood of a telephone pole. The grub stared upwards, his eyes unseeing with fear.

Kamisori gave one last stomp on the grub before backing off, and continued down the street without so much as drawing a glance from passers-by. The grub began to sob on the concrete.

* * *

A short while later Kamisori was seated at a bar, his thoughts slightly drowned out by the outrageously loud music. He wished there was a place where he could enjoy a drink in silence, these days. A plain bottle of warm amakuchi sake rested in front of him. He sat with his elbow propped up on the bar, his chin cradled in the palm of his hand. Kamisori brought the porcelain cup up to his lips with a sort of propriety not associated with his look of boredom.

The barkeep scuttled around washing out glasses, muttering to himself. Only one customer tonight. Most others were out on the dance floor, probably searching for a one-night stand. Then in the dim light, out of the shuffle of socializing and stepping, one lone soul parted for the bar.

Kamisori vaguely thought he had seen her in the village once or twice. He sipped his wine appreciatively, not minding the woman who was a seat over from him.

"Some snacks please," She said in a charming voice, "And whiskey."

"Fine, but we only serve Hakushu here."

"I'll have that, thanks."

The bartender turned around to his shelves of endless glass and set to work. The young woman sat with her back straight, eyes focused on the many-colored bottles in front of her. Kamisori looked at the girl, understanding how she wasn't in attendance for social matters. It was pretty easy to spot a kunoichi who had finished a day of hard work.

That was one thing he was very picky about. He did not look too often for women in the bar, because for the most part they were already breathing down the pants of two or three other men. Kunoichi, on the other hand, were a separate commodity. Preferable, in his opinion. They had dignity, and most often, intelligence that most females of Mist were so painfully lacking. The downside was that there were approximately seven remaining kunoichi in all of Kirigakure. Three of which were jounin, and the rest novices. They were a rare sight indeed.

Kamisori eyed her up and down. It was difficult to tell what she specialized in. She was fair-skinned, with indigo hair framing her face down to her shoulders. Her dark eyes stayed respectfully on the bottles across the way, although he was certain she was considering him as well. She sighed, uncomfortable with the heat of the place, and stripped off her jacket. There was a modest black halter underneath. He was almost disappointed it was not more revealing.

The barkeep returned with a glass and pushed it in front of her. "What kind of snack?" He asked.

"Something salty."

He departed again. The woman touched the glass to her lips and sputtered. For a moment he thought she couldn't hold the drink she had ordered.

"Ugh." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "That idiot…why did he heat this up? It's not sake…" He was getting older, she could credit his tiny attention span to that. She gingerly placed her whiskey back down, wondering if she could order another without having to pay for it.

Kamisori watched her fold her arms on the side of the counter. Something about her was decidedly virtuous. Maybe in the way she comported herself, or the way she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. This was a kunoichi, it was clear, who had not had a man in a long time. He chose to be helpful.

The tiniest shock of chakra was all he needed. He frosted her glass for her. "Are you going to drink that?" He asked innocuously.

She raised her eyebrows, and then looked down. She tried the beverage and was surprised. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Did you just…?"

He said nothing and took another sip of wine.

"Thank you…I didn't realize you were a…" She lowered her voice, "Aren't you worried someone will find you here?"

"I work for the Mizukage."

"Oh! Sorry." She apologized, "I was kind of worried for a second there. That looked like…the Hyoton, or something."

"It is."

"So you really are a ?"

"I'm a loyalist. We serve only the Mist Village." He told her shortly. He sipped his wine, but was fighting a smirk. She was cute. She wasn't prejudiced against clan-shinobi.

"Thank you." She said again, sipping her drink, "It's funny that I don't see you much, since I work directly under Kyonjin-sama too."

"Strange, yes, but you haven't asked me my name yet." He pointed out.

"Oh…well," She smiled faintly, "I'll introduce myself first. My name is Arashino Kuina."

"Yuki Kamisori." He told her. She held out her hand and he was highly amused when he shook it.

"Yuki that's right." She nodded, recognizing the clan, "I've never met any of them personally…"

"You really don't want to." He assured her, "Nasty, self-righteous people."

"You don't live with them?"

Kamisori looked affronted. Didn't he say he was a loyalist? But some people just couldn't figure it… "No, I don't." He told her.

There was a beat of silence and the barkeep stopped by, setting a bowl of peanuts between them. "Enjoy that." He said, bustling on his way.

Kuina looked down at the peanuts, thoughtful, and then snatched one up. Kamisori watched her crack through the shell deftly with her nails. "You can have some if you want." She offered.

"No thank you."

Kuina popped the small hearts into her mouth. "I know they don't seem like much, but these little babies are first-rate antioxidant bullets."

He looked at her over his cup of wine, having never heard such a thing.

"They do all sorts of stuff. Prevent heart disease, gallstones, protect against Alzheimer's, slow down weight gain…" She paused, realizing what she'd said, "Not that you have to worry about that!"

For the hell of it he cracked two shells and helped himself. If she made such a fuss about it, he figured it was worth it. It complemented the wine nicely anyway.

Her eidetic knowledge was also unusual, he thought, maybe even for a Mist kunoichi. Kamisori decided he liked it. Her intelligence, at least respected it. Maybe he would not get laid tonight.

"Kuina." Her name rolled off his tongue and it sounded like a song. She looked over to him expectantly, picking at the peanuts again.

"You're a medic-nin, aren't you?" He observed.

She didn't want to brag, but she was a lot more than just a medic-nin, "Yes, jounin-level, that's right. Kind of easy to tell, isn't it?"

She smiled again. Charming as she was, he was getting frustrated. Sex suddenly seemed so much more plausible with this woman than with any of the others inhabiting Kirigakure. It probably wasn't going to happen, though.

"What are you going to do tonight?" It was a very searching question.

Kuina finished the last of her drink, "Work. All I do as work, it's more than I can stand." A somber smile, "This war keeps my salary healthy though, with all the patients that come in."

He finally did smirk. She stared at his mouth for a few seconds, sharing a brainwave with him for a moment. His lips must have been the center of the sexual universe, because it took everything she had to stop herself from inviting him home (_forget _work!) and doing certain things she had not done in over a year (curse my nonexistent dating-life!)

"W-Well, nice to meet you, Kamisori-san." She stood, folding her jacket over her arm, "I'll see you around sometime."

"Goodnight." He was polite, in spite of the missed opportunity.

Kamisori tipped more sake into his cup. The medic-nin slipped back through the crowd to the exit and disappeared into the muggy night. Suddenly he found his standards had gone up drastically. Kunoichi only: which was altogether seven options. Then jounin: that left about three. Lastly, a requirement for a medic: that left one.

"Well, this is problematic." He sipped his wine, and then scooped up some more peanuts.

* * *

_A/N: There. A quick setup. There's more to it obviously, but if you could pick up the subtle clues in this one you get a mental pat on the head. It is an AU, by the way, so things are going to happen a bit skewed. That's the beauty of it though. Hurray for Zabuza_ _he's just too much fun to write! Kamisori's name means "razor."_


	2. Women, the endangered gender

_A/N: In case some still find it unclear, yes, the Seven Swords are no more. That's kind of prone to change, obviously, but it's the subtle and gradual reconstruction of it that sets the cogs in motion._

* * *

Kuina reached the hospital at a very slow hour. It was just eleven o'clock at night, but her distorted mental clock was reading morning time the day had just begun. The automatic doors slid apart for her and upon entering, she habitually reached to her left, snatching up a clipboard from a countertop. Names, names, names. Names and maladies. How many needed her today?

A few residents rushed past with a man on a gurney, but she did not raise her eyes. Only after she'd looked over the entire list did she acknowledge her environment.

"First thing's first." She spoke aloud her most favored adage.

Kuina crossed the floor, handing off her clipboard to an intern. Another medic-nin whirled around to face her after writing up surgery times on a whiteboard, anxiety clear on his face. "You're here, Chief!" He greeted her, "We had about four more come in around ten minutes ago…"

"Hello, Guo-san. Where's Taki?" She kept walking at a brisk pace, down the south corridor. Guo had to dodge parked gurneys to keep up with her.

"He's at home, drunk." He told her miserably.

"Oh good." She smiled darkly, "I'll be sure to refer him for a pay raise."

Guo grimaced at her seething remark. Kuina asked if any of their staff _were _on hand currently, and he reported some ten medics, but they were scattered and preoccupied. She stopped at a room, glancing at the numbered panel beside the door.

"Here we go, room 153..." She read the spreadsheet tacked up on the panel, "Nuhi Kyomo…Chunin…aged 18...deployed for frontline combat for two weeks, suffers severe trauma to " A wail of agony shook from the room.

Kuina glanced at her assistant beside her, "Time to get to work."

He sighed, following her in. Nurses already tending to the patient squawked crossly when Kuina looked down at the shuddering, armless chunin and greeted, "Well hi there, Nuhi-san! You sure are bleeding a lot…"

* * *

After a mind-numbing eight hour shift at the hospital Kuina trudged into the Mizukage's office. He had just woken up a short while ago, the lucky bastard. She was desperate for sleep. Somehow she willed herself to smile at the village leader. The bags under her eyes did not suit her.

Kyonjin lit a cigarette from behind his desk, "Good morning, Kuina-chan."

"Good morning, sir." She replied tiredly.

"What's today's report?"

"Well…ten more dead, and at _least _two dozen injured many badly. Not nearly as bad as last week, though…" She conceded, "Sir…those front lines are not going to make it. There's someone fighting out there…some _people _who can do these **horrific **things. Injuries that I've _never _seen before "

"The Kaguya Clan, intelligence says." He said airily, taking a drag, "Perhaps Yuki also."

She lowered her eyes sadly. She didn't want to know the details, because she'd seen them already.

"Come now, Kuina-chan, buck up. I can't have my Chief Medical Officer going soft on me now." Kyonjin told her, "You have a mission tomorrow."

"Oh? But I wasn't scheduled "

"A-Rank. You'll be accompanying a hand-picked task force to do some reconnaissance on a gathering rebellion in the western province." He droned on, ignoring her fatigue, "I trust you will keep your comrades in pristine health while out in the field?"

She sighed, "Of course, sir."

He took another drag, observing her gloomy expression, and then added, "Is something troubling you?"

"It's my father, Kyonjin-sama. I was wondering if mail is still traveling south…because I don't believe…he's received my letter yet." Kuina admitted haltingly.

"I assure you it was sent three days ago with the utmost priority." He answered, his head wreathed in smoke.

"I see…thank you." She bowed, taking her leave. She left the office with a seed of worry in her gut, since there had been no reply from her father with the last letter either. He was either too busy to reply or the mail wasn't getting through, thanks to enemy interceptions.

'_Or he's dead somewhere.' _A taunting voice chimed in from the back of her mind. She squashed the thought, trusting that the war hadn't spread that far south.

The way home was foggy in the early-morning dew. Light had barely stretched over the treetops, and Kuina reached her apartment with dragging feet and sleepy eyes. She unlocked the door and let herself in. She tossed her keys onto a mahogany tabletop, shuffling in and clicking the door shut behind her. She let out a moan of desperate exhaustion.

Last night had been havoc. She'd changed out of her lab coat three times because it had been so caked with blood. Her patients were going to see more of her in red than in white. Sometimes she hated her job, no matter how masterful she was at it.

Kuina blinked drowsily when she crunched something underfoot. She lifted her heel, and observed a peanut shell that was in shards the perfect shape of her sandal. She quickly thought of Kamisori.

She had only gone for a quick drink to settle her nerves before work, but the man she had met still lingered in her head. He'd had a confident and mysterious demeanor, and despite him being reserved there was something undeniably sexual about him. It perturbed her to no end how her odd-hour job prevented her from socializing normally.

Kuina slumped towards the hall closet, fetching a dustpan, and swept up the fragments of shell from the floor. She had liked him, she admitted. He was mysterious and handsome. Of course it was also the first time in a long time she'd had a conversation with a man who had maintained eye contact. It was really annoying when they talked to her boobs.

She removed her shoes before going inside. The upside to her job was the money. She was paid extravagantly, and her wages had afforded her a lovely apartment far more spacious than the majority of residences in Mist. She plucked the withered flowers out of a vase and tossed them in the trash. She'd need to get more sometime. She dumped the water out into the kitchen sink before pressing on, habit reasserting itself.

Ritually she poured milk and oats into a bowl, eyes drooping, and turned on a small countertop radio for background music. An upbeat tune filled the room for a while and she sat, smilingly comfortably while she munched her cereal. Eventually the station went to commercial, reporting on the biggest news there was the war. It was all loyalist propaganda, demonizing clan-bred shinobi, and she snapped the radio off, sickened. She ate beside the window and stared out at the rising sun.

Mist was in the last phase of summer. Soon the weather would turn cold, and the war would take a bad turn once winter arrived. Many would die. Kuina wiped a spot of milk from her lip. Her dearest wish was for the war to end, but if Kyonjin ever heard her say that he'd send her straight to the front lines and be rid of her.

Kuina finished the soggy cereal and then washed the bowl out in the sink. She tried not to think about the war or the Mizukage anymore. She shuffled a few paces down the hall to her bathroom and ran a customary, lukewarm bath. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, though her mind was not on her present task. The sight of her naked flesh had again, somehow, sparked an uncomfortable and involuntary thought of Kamisori.

'_He wasn't even that cute.' _She thought in her own defense, _'He looked kind of funny…' _Which actually meant he was uniquely handsome, in her own cryptic language. _'Aw crap. He was breathtakingly, worryingly beautiful…and what did I do? I babbled like an idiot. About my __**job. **__My smelly, bloody job that keeps me up at crazy hours so I can't date anyone!'_

She splashed a resentful handful of water on her face, a half-hearted punishment, and then climbed out of the tub and dried off. Kuina threw on a pink T-shirt and a pair of panties she'd set aside, and then embarked on the last part of her just-before-bedtime ritual. Back in the under-decorated, seldom-visited living space she procured a sack of seeds from a lamp-table cupboard, and turned to a small cage set atop her work desk. Kuina reached into the cage and topped up the emptying bowl with food. "Dinner…" She croaked tiredly.

Her friends had always told her it was ridiculous to keep a pet when she worked such a hectic schedule. Kuina found she could manage it spectacularly, because outside of the hospital she had no one other than herself to care for. The little creature was good company. He did not talk back and he had a sweet face. He slept all day, like she did, and was only up on his annoyingly squeaky wheel during the night while she was at work. A flawless relationship. It was easy work to clean the cage, and sometimes she wondered if this was the only company she needed a rodent. It beat the heck out of her old, neurotic, dysfunctional, and long-since dissolved family.

She refilled the water bottle and refitted it to the sidebars of the cage. Kuina glanced out the window one more time, regarding the morning light distantly, and then returned in a haze of exhaustion to her bedroom. She collapsed on top of the sheets (it was too hot to sleep under them anyway,) and closed her eyes. The instant sleep was gratifying, but in her half-awake heart she conceded it was painfully monotonous. She wouldn't mind a small intrusion in her life, no matter how brief or unusual.

* * *

Kuina awoke in the afternoon after a long and dead sleep. Her eyes were crusted over and she fussed at them, also discomforted by her clinging shirt, slightly damp from the summer heat. She sat up with a creak and looked at the digital clock on the bedside stand. A quarter past four. Miserably, she sat up, sticky with perspiration, and crossed over to the air conditioner fitted in the window. She flicked the switch, but knew it would take time for her room to cool down. In her conscious state she was irritable and unprepared for daily activity, so Kuina was, to say the least, peeved when there was a knock at the front door.

With a grumble she toddled in her underwear to answer the door, already quite certain who it was. She shoved a locked bolt, and gave a one-eyed glare to her dear friend who knew much better than to visit in hours containing daylight. The woman held up a six-pack of beer as a peace offering, smiling widely, "Well don't ya look the perfect, grouchy witch, lovey? Gonna let me in?"

"I don't like beer, Nago." Kuina rasped, but took the box from her anyway. "Oh…come in."

Nago strolled in after her shuffling, hunched-over friend, knowing the next question was rhetorical. "How ya feeling, lovey?" She closed the door behind her with a ker-thunk.

"I feel like a grouchy witch. You called it." Kuina replied, rubbing at her eyes.

"Mother of the gods…it's a brick oven in here, innit? You're sweatin' off pounds, I'll bet, love." Nago grinned at her friend, "Ya can afford central air, ya know. What the hell are ya waiting for?"

"The war to end, I suppose. I have more important things to worry about than quality temperature control." Kuina told her. She placed the beer in the refrigerator, wondering if she'd ever get around to drinking it.

As long as she'd known Nago, the woman had always spoken in the slang of the southeast province of the Water Country. Some called the region a hick-town, others were wise enough to see it as a cesspool for bloodline limit breeding. Nago, as it so happened, did not have a Kekkei Genkai, but was no less a product of the area.

Nago was also a jounin, very accomplished in her field of espionage, but not as decorated as Kuina in terms of public service. Nago was also blessed with stamina her friend could only hope to have. "Don't want to try the beer, Kui? It's the good stuff bootleg from the mainland, ya know…" She wanted to drink, but her friend was clearly not in the mood.

"Is it okay if I just sleep?" Kuina asked meekly.

"Sure it is, ya musta had a clusterfuck party at the hospital again, eh?" Nago was laughing, "Any more missing limbs? Gods this war is just a cosmic joke…"

Kuina smiled at her weakly.

Nago added, "Ya know we can't even legally fund it? Kyonjin-sama's supposedly used revenues from "

"Shh!" Kuina pinched her friend's lips shut, "Do you want to get assassinated? Don't talk about that shit! Someone might be !"

"Listening? Oh like I believe that steaming load!" Nago hollered, "Who's gonna git me, huh? The Anbu? They worship the air I float on!"

Kuina laughed in spite of her paranoia.

"Anyway, lovey, I'm gonna split so ya can rest your little witch head." Her friend said, heading for the door, "And for flip's sake, loaf off sometime, ya hear me? Call me when ya wanna stretch your grouchy legs."

"It won't be anytime soon, unfortunately. I have a mission tomorrow." At Nago's cross stare Kuina added, "B-But I'll…yeah. I'll let you know."

"Now that's a good Medical Officer…" Nago purred, and vanished from the apartment.

Kuina was glad after her friend had departed. By then her room had cooled down slightly, and she crawled into her bed, drifting to sleep, knowing her alarm would wake her for her next assignment.

* * *

At the very first electronic buzz she slammed down on the clock, silencing it. Kuina got up mechanically and began a very different routine. She migrated to the kitchen and ate whatever was in sight a nectarine, a leftover slice of chocolate cake, and a few mouthfuls of mild curry which was foolish and left a bad aftertaste in her mouth. The energy would certainly help, though. She brushed her teeth three times afterward.

Kuina had distinctive dress for hospital work comfort clothes and a light jacket, mostly. For missions, however, she spared no expense. She slipped on an armored breastplate that had several quivers for throwing spines and other nasty projectiles. Her armguards were lightweight but sturdy, and even her knee-high boots sported some added protection. She packed what few supplies she absolutely needed, intending to go light, and left the rest up to her knowledge and skills.

She set out in the dawn light, skimming across rooftops towards the designated rendezvous point. It was a short walk just outside of the village, but when she arrived she could see she was the last one there. Three men were already hovering impatiently in the bramble. Kuina quickly assessed the group.

She knew two of them from past experience. Hayago and Oun, both jounin she'd worked with before, although Hayago was a better friend than she'd count Oun. The third man was a newbie, as far as she could tell. He was young with shifty eyes and stringy hair pulled back in an ashy braid. She thought about asking his name, but being polite was not really necessary in Mist, and she figured she'd learn it sooner or later.

Hayago, as the veteran of the team, assumed leadership and ordered them to move out. Kuina could see he was not looking so well. He'd cut his hair off again. It was a choppy black mess, and he might have been attractive if his face hadn't been crossed with scars. His eyes were an unusual shade of orange. Something about him always reminded her of her father, even though he bared no resemblance at all. As they set out west the newbie began to chat.

His name was Rama, and he'd been promoted to jounin rank a month earlier for his excellence on the battlefield. Hayago could personally vouch for him, but Oun, the slinky redhead of the group, with an impressive summer tan, seemed a bit disgruntled by the youth. He sensed a sore of inexperience in the new jounin and could not overlook it. Kuina chose not to comment.

After an hour or so of traveling the sun had climbed up slightly in the sky. They stopped in a dimly lit valley that was a half mile from the coast. When Kuina closed her eyes she could hear the ocean's waves rushing in against the sound of chirping crickets.

Oun used a jutsu that quickly detected enemy chakra signatures, and inclined his head towards a ridge. "That's the area, alright." He told his team, "I don't feel a lot of activity, though."

Hayago led the way up the fern-tangled slope, staying low, and at the top peered down upon the shinobi congregation. They were clearly not with Mist, Kuina knew. She'd seen the type before. Oun used his jutsu again to get a more accurate reading. "There's around…thirty of them." He cursed quietly under his breath, "And they're all Kaguya. They've even got the kids with them, isn't that nice?"

The Kaguya clan were notorious for taking their children into battle. It was a practice that had severe repercussions, and underestimated advantages. Few children were so remarkably educated in warfare.

Rama spoke up in a hushed voice, "These are the ones responsible for destroying Mist's northern outpost. You know, two weeks back? Mizukage-sama nearly blew his top…"

"He expected too much of a squadron of only twelve. They were massacred." Hayago said shortly, "We cannot engage until we return with reinforcements. We need to confirm that they're here for respite, and not intending an ambush."

They spied for nearly an hour on people who were only _sleeping. _Rama had gotten in alarmingly close, but had still remained unnoticed. He returned with a report on overall health, a better headcount, and an estimation of their supplies. Kuina didn't want to say she was bored, but she sure was thinking it. She'd never actually _seen _a Kaguya only heard about them. So far they were lacking the reputation that so often preceded them.

They retreated slowly back down the ridge, and as they trekked back through the endless sea of maple trees, Rama shared some of his trail mix. Kuina thanked him for his generosity, surprised when she had picked a peanut from the bag. While she mused about her selection, Oun had, in contrast, scooped a handful of whatever he could get and palmed it into his mouth.

"You're not the kind of guy to discriminate, huh?" Rama was amused.

"No, but Kuina here hasn't even started." Oun pointed out.

The medic frowned, "I find this very symbolic, is all, so please don't judge me."

"I won't even ask." Oun said.

Hayago held out his arm suddenly, halting them. It was a bit of a shock to see a woman crossing the path ahead of them. She froze when she noticed them, holding a green-eyed stare before raising her hand to her mouth. Kuina watched in astonishment as bones prodded out from the skin of her hand in a mass, and the woman blew into the hollowed disk, emitting a piercing screech.

Rama leapt, but too late, the whistle had gotten out, and the whole of the Kaguya clan began to stir in the valley. He slashed at her aggressively with a kodachi, which she countered by extending bone claws from the metacarpals in her hands. Kuina could hardly believe her eyes. Rama had managed to connect a hit with the woman's forehead, stunning her, and they bolted from the scene as the woman screamed and screamed…

"For fuck's sake you couldn't sense that bitch before?" Rama snarled sidelong to his teammate, "Now those freaks are gonna be after us!"

"She must've been off taking a piss in the woods how was I supposed to know where she was?" Oun snapped back.

"The both of you better shut up!" Hayago warned, and they did. They scaled another slope, cutting through an orchard, and followed the team leader across a river that was slightly off their original course. Hayago produced several water clones from the stream that doubled back into the forest, which could serve as a distraction for their pursuers.

"I…don't see how this…is helping us escape." Kuina panted after the team had stopped on a craggy hilltop, "Shouldn't we just stand our ground?"

"You've obviously never fought a Kaguya before…" Oun sighed, "They're difficult to outrun, and downright near impossible to hurt. This isn't the fight we want to pick."

Hayago pointed to a dam several yards off. "We can flood the ravine by tearing down that levee." He said steadily, "They are not gifted with water talents, unlike most shinobi of this country."

Rama went ahead while the others stayed back. He set a few explosives around the embankment at critical points. Hayago called him back when the first of the Kaguya began to appear. The bombs detonated, shredding the concrete, and the levee cascaded down on the shinobi who were just crossing the river.

The first line of rebels had been washed away, and it stunned Kuina to see that they hadn't been quick enough to avoid it. The good fortune was too good to last, though. A few other Kaguya had found their footing on the water's surface and rushed for the high ground the Mist ninja were stationed at. Hayago ordered an attack.

Rama and Oun assisted the team leader with using high-level water jutsu, bombarding the incoming ninja with what was left in the reservoir. Kuina only knew three or four techniques that manipulated water, but she contributed anyway with a slightly less savage assault. The Kaguya had been buffered again, and this time it granted the Mist ninja another opportunity to flee.

Hayago sped off, with the rest of his team falling back in turn. They crossed back over the crag and into a denser forest that obscured the top of the valley. Kuina would've thought they were in the clear, but a straggler had caught them. They stopped and faced the rebel, confident that he was outnumbered.

What was most strange was that this one could not have been more than eight years old. Naturally they'd let their guards down. He was wide-eyed and tense, but Kuina suspected that the look in his eyes was not of fear, but of computation. She held back a small gasp when the small boy charged. He was frighteningly quick.

He produced a bone knife from his forearm and lunged for Hayago. The team leader stepped back, and caught the boy by his wrist, intending to throw him aside. Hayago let go of him suddenly with a cry. While he reeled Kuina could see the Kaguya boy had a sharp ridge of bones protruding from the spot where he'd been touched. After Hayago had recoiled from the porcupine defense the boy sprang again, seizing the opportunity, and plunged the knife into the Mist ninja's chest.

The team balked, astonished by the feat, but the attack had been buffered by Hayago's flak vest. Hayago wrenched the boy off and kicked him brutally, sending his small form crumpling to the ground. Kuina swiftly looked over her leader's wound, "It's small…he didn't hit anything vital but he probably meant to…"

Her stomach twisted with horror to see Rama and Oun had gone ahead to counter. The boy had struggled to his feet but Rama backhanded him in the face, cursing at him, and the boy stumbled again dizzied. Oun was about to deliver some justice as well, but Kuina called out breathlessly for him to stop. "Are you crazy? He's just a child! This isn't his war!" She reminded him. Oun backed off grudgingly.

They retreated again, Hayago slightly winded from his wound. Two more Kaguya had showed up during that time period, though. They hadn't gone very far before they saw the two rebels shouting at the boy, berating him for having not killed anyone. They could've cared less about the injuries the boy had sustained.

"Sick motherfuckers…" Oun growled.

Bone projectiles rained down near the team without warning and the Mist ninja scattered. Rama and Oun let out grunts of pain, and after turning around Kuina could see they'd been hit in the back with the fragments. Before she could assess how bad it was, one of the quicker rebels had caught up to them.

Oun, despite being injured, threw himself in front of his team. He drew the sword at his back and clashed viciously with the Kaguya, screaming at him, desperate for victory. More projectiles pelted ahead from the surrounding forest, making it difficult to tell where the enemy was lingering. Kuina had pulled Hayago to the ground in order to spare him from being shot. Rama was also taking evasive precautions, but Oun continued to fight.

He'd stabbed the Kaguya in his side, but somehow the hit was ineffective. Bone plating beneath the skin had halted the attack. The rebel whirled around and plunged twin bone daggers into his opponent, and Oun jerked, dropping his weapon. Once the bone bullets had ceased the Mist team was immediately up again. Hayago rushed ahead, and while the Kaguya's blades were still stuck in Oun's chest, he gouged the rebel's eyes out with his gauntlet.

The enemy staggered off, wailing, and Rama hurriedly pulled Oun onto his back before the team took off again. This time they were not followed. Kuina counted it nothing short of a miracle.

The rush back to the Mist Village was a practiced race through the fog. In the blur of movement Kuina looked back to Oun, helpless on Rama's back, and could tell from experience he was mortally wounded. He was drifting in and out of consciousness as Rama demanded that he stay awake. Kuina knew she could not fully help with the deep wounds Oun had sustained until they were at the hospital, _'I could use the Threading Method and use some of his own hair to close up the gashes…I might need Guo to help me, though…'_

Rama eventually stopped anyway and pleaded with Kuina to do something. "Just shut him up, will you? He keeps going on and on about his little son and it's driving me nuts…" He said, his voice betraying empathy.

Kuina kneeled beside the shuddering man, her hands aglow with peridot light, and set to work. She sealed up the two major punctures beneath his ribcage, but was disturbed to find bone fragments broken off in the wounds. She'd seen this type of damage before with incoming patients, and she hadn't been able to save all of them. "We need to get back to the village now, because sitting here isn't doing him any good." Kuina announced, "Take him, Rama."

She handed Oun back to the new jounin and they moved on. Somehow they were back in Mist within minutes, although Kuina suspected her perception of time was terribly skewed. They sped through the streets, and it was still early enough so that only a few laborers and shinobi were about. The sun had peeked out from behind thick clouds and illuminated the city briefly.

Kuina could hardly trust her eyes when she caught a glimpse of of all people, Kamisori on the side of the road. His expression was slightly bemused. Certainly she couldn't stay and chat, so she dashed on with her team, passing the man by without a word (to him at least.)

The hospital was not busy at all, and when Kuina made her dramatic, filthy entrance she needn't say anything in order to get the interns to crowd around her. Rama handed Oun off to one of the doctors but he was already dead. Hayago swore loudly. Kuina heaved a very disturbed sigh and plopped down onto a rolling chair by the front desk. Tears threatened her eyes for a good ten seconds before she thought better of it, acknowledging the realities of her profession, and she stood up again.

She led Rama and Hayago into an examination room to tend to their wounds, while Oun's body was taken down the hallway for an autopsy.

* * *

Once her teammates were discharged, Kuina, in a very depressed state, went to the Administrative building to report the damages. She'd been in the bathroom for ten minutes scrubbing the dirt from her face and the blood from her hands. It had even gotten under her fingernails, which became a nightmare to clean. Her clothes were a little worse for the wear, but it was as presentable as she was going to get.

To her wonder, as she entered the ground floor of the complex, a young chunin stopped to thank her. He happened to be one of the patients she had helped a week earlier, and she nodded off his gratitude humbly. When they parted she began the trek up the spiral walk of the building.

She wondered how Oun's wife and son would take the news of his death. She felt partially responsible for it, and she hoped that Hayago would inform them of the situation delicately. Kuina rubbed her neck, hating how she was so tense and sick with worry.

When she reached the top floor Kuina halted, amazed by her timing yet again. Approaching from down the hallway, most likely just out of the Mizukage's office, was Kamisori again. The second time she'd seen him in a span of three hours, and she'd hardly ever seen him in her many years of living in Mist. He was like a mirage, and a very lovely one at that.

Her mood quickly improved as she drank his appearance in. His downy white hair stood up in tufts, snow-like, and his skin was uncommonly dark for someone of his noble breeding. His eyes were very interesting mismatched blue eyes, one light and one dark, and she briefly wondered if he suffered from cataracts. Since that wasn't a good conversation starter she hurriedly looked for another feature to comment on.

'_Crap all over again! What do I say?' _She couldn't think of anything appropriate: _You look very dashing in that fancy-pants regalia you've got on…what the hell do you __**do**__ at clubs anyway?…I thought about you in my bathtub…_

"Peanut Medic Kuina." Thank goodness he spoke first, "You were in a hurry earlier."

Whew. That was a nice save. It could've ended in flames and questions about bathtubs.

"Yes, I was, but…unfortunately there was no way to save our teammate." She told him, and then smoothly added, "How are you, Kamisori-san?"

"Busy." He said, continuing on his way, "I'll see you around."

He was gone just like that, and Kuina would've fumed, if not for the fact that she was kind of grateful he had left before she had said something stupid. He had that effect on people. _'But that was genuinely frustrating, right there. I wanted to ask him out for a drink and he had to go and be all mysterious…' _She pouted as she walked. _'Tch. Whatever. You're just cute. That's all you have going for you!'_

She knocked once before entering Kyonjin's office. He looked to be in a very good mood, _'Probably just took out another Rebel leader?' _and greeted her warmly. Kuina reported on their findings, though he already seemed aware of the Kaguya's strategies, and regretfully explained Oun's demise. He took the news in stride.

"He was a brave man, and his family will be compensated." Now _that _was what she wanted to hear, "I'll be sending a response force to drive those brutes out in a few hours. Thank you for your good work, Kuina."

She bowed respectfully before leaving. There was no sign of Kamisori anywhere as she exited the tower, and on her way home she stopped for takeout. _'The prices are really getting out of hand…' _If things kept up her superior salary wouldn't help her stay afloat. Kuina returned to her apartment, weary as she often was, and set the bag down on the kitchen table.

She changed out of her clothes and bathed quickly. Her stomach was protesting its emptiness. Kuina threw on light top and shorts before settling down to eat. She sat on the couch, and after taking one bite of her dumpling became distracted. The wheel in the cage was turning with curious speed. "You want to visit, Ham?" She asked. Kuina fetched the little fuzzball from his cage and sat down again. She let him scurry up and down her legs while she sat and ate contentedly. Occasionally she'd feed him a grain of rice, but he wasn't too interested in it.

Kuina finished her meal in silence, and carried Ham in her shirt pocket back to the kitchen. She left her bowl in the sink, and turned to the refrigerator, noting how thirsty she was. She stole a peek inside but there was only beer. Her stomach turned at the thought of imbibing. She closed the refrigerator and placed Ham back in his cage, deciding it would be best to get more sleep.

She turned on the air conditioning in her bedroom, sick of the stagnant heat, and spread out on top of her bed. Kuina knew she couldn't keep avoiding Nago and her frivolity forever, especially with the case of beer that had been planted in her apartment as a reminder. '_Sure was thoughtful of her…'_ Tired and careworn, Kuina rolled over and slid her palm beneath her cheek, welcoming sleep.

* * *

Later in the evening she woke again, feeling sticky but slightly rested. Kuina lay staring up the ceiling for a long while, wondering for a brief, petulant moment why her life was so repetitive. She was honestly sick with herself, '_Did I really become a shinobi just to be bored out of my mind?' _She rolled out of bed with a creak and decided to get dressed.

Nago wouldn't appreciate it if she was stood up. She hadn't been previously, and Kuina knew that her friend was only looking out for her so that she wouldn't become a hermit with sixty cats in her apartment one day. She set out on the street in the dim light, glad the temperature had dropped, and silently prayed in her head that something good would come of her going back to the bar.

Kuina slinked into the shady establishment, grateful that the music wasn't quite blaring yet, and could see familiar faces on each wall enjoying some sort of drink. For a delusional, hair-splitting moment the kunoichi glanced around for Kamisori. There were a few people at the bar but she did not see him. Looking around, she realized, there was no one present who even remotely resembled him. _'At least he's easy to spot…' _But no, the handsome, furtive man was nowhere in sight and she nearly regretted coming at all until Nago beckoned her over to the dance floor.

"There ya are, lovey, it's about time. I was afraid you were comatose!" Her friend teased, "See? It's not so hard to git out and have a little fun, is it?"

"I suppose. Nice…shirt(?), Nago." Kuina paused, looking over her friend again disapprovingly, "Did you lose your clothes or something, I wonder? These days it's as if you chose to wear almost nothing."

Whatever it was: tunic, dress, whathaveyou, it was not covering much of her friend and Kuina suspected that was the point. Nago did a twirl in her barely-there outfit that was not necessary.

"Barer is better, lovey." Nago purred. Kuina rolled her eyes.

Her friend was gorgeous to say the least, and plainly sensual, but despite it all men hated her. This was for one simple reason beside Nago stood her girlfriend, Sashayma, a doe-eyed beauty who was also seriously lacking clothing. If asked, men from all around the village who knew Nago would label her a complete waste, since she chose to swing the "wrong way."

Kuina was well-adjusted to her friend's alternative lifestyle, and if anything, commended her for it. _'Who wants a man from here anyway? They're hopeless!' _But in her heart Kuina felt that there was still the slimmest chance for happiness her's anyway. Nago had already found the person she wanted to spend her life with.

While the two women jabbered on and on, coaxing Kuina to dance, the medic couldn't help but let her mind wander elsewhere. Maybe another mission wouldn't hurt. Perhaps her father had finally answered her letter and invited her to come visit. Anywhere but here, she thought _anywhere!_

"Would you care for a drink, Kui-chan? They're serving this new tangerine martini and it's quite tasty." Sashayma offered sweetly.

"No thanks. Maybe later…"

Nago, having heard a report on Kuina's most recent mission, commented on it, "Goddamn Kaguya…I'm sorry ya had to go through all that, lovey. Just be glad it didn't go worse."

The medic-nin shook her head, "I think I'm over it now anyway, Nago."

Her friend quirked an eyebrow, "That so? Cause to me it still looks like something's up with you…"

Kuina shrugged it off, not bothering to answer. Nago would not understand her little infatuation with Kamisori, being that she personally hated men. No one would blame her, but Kuina had accepted the fact that she had no one to talk to about it.

They danced for a long while, letting loose, drowned in the lights and rhythmic bass. Men came and went, sometimes taking interest but were often driven off. Kuina found she was nearly repulsed by them as much as Nago was. Then again, she conceded, anyone who came to a place like this could only be seeking explicit things.

One man who had always been particularly persistent with Nago had appeared. Kuina recognized him from a previous conversation an Anbu captain named Iori who was a genuine scumbag she seldom socialized with. Suddenly their previous suitors seemed tolerable.

He exchanged words with Nago that Kuina could not hear over the pulsing music. Iori bent his stubbled chin towards Nago's ear and whispered something. The woman was promptly infuriated and shoved him roughly with her elbow, indignant.

"Come on now, Nago, we all know you're just keeping up a charade." He retorted harshly, "That girl of yours can't satisfy you the way a man could, I mean, just look at her! What could you expect from a slinky thing like that?" Sashayma lowered her eyes in humiliation.

"_You're_ out of **line**, Iori!" Kuina's tone was venomous as she took a step in front of Sashayma.

His glare was tangible, "Oh, I'm sorry Chief! Did you suddenly discover you hate dicks too ?"

Nago's fist met his jaw with a harrowing _crack. _Iori's head snapped to the side and he reeled, blind-sided, and people on the dance floor quickly scattered to avoid getting hit. Iori pivoted, trying to catch Nago in a heel-drop but she was too quick, and ducked back with Sashayma clamped tightly in her arms. Another drunken punch came flying from the Anbu captain but Kuina caught his wrist and diverted the strike, and he tumbled off in the wrong direction. Before he could retaliate further in intoxicated outrage, the proprietor had descended, screaming in a frenzy about his establishment's policies.

They were thrown out of the club straightaway, but thankfully it meant they didn't have to deal with Iori's alcohol-fueled rage. Kuina walked with her friends beneath the streetlights, slightly thrilled that she'd finally had her first bar-brawl. Nago spoke words of comfort to Sashayma until the girl perked up a little.

"Sorry about dragging ya into that scrap, Kuina-chan." Nago said at length, and then smiled to herself, "We probably won't be allowed back there, come to think of it…"

Kuina shook her head, "I don't mind. He wasn't there anyway…" She trailed off, realizing she had slipped.

Nago was intrigued, "_He? _A new man in your life, Kuina?"

"He must be a gentlemen, then." Sashayma assumed.

"I wish." Kuina laughed, "Those were all out of stock, last I checked."

They parted on a street corner after saying goodnight, and Kuina took to the rooftops for the remainder of her walk home. Mist's streets were not safe at night for only one person, shinobi or not, but the high ground always held an advantage. She descended again after reaching her apartment building, unlocked the door to her flat, and let herself in, glad to be home. Even though it had been an essentially unpleasant evening, Kuina could not help but be in a good mood, inexplicably.

The air conditioner had been set on a timer so upon her entry, the place had already cooled down considerably. She gave a heartfelt sigh, peeling off clothing as she went, stepping out of her heels, and hopped around routinely. After redressing in light pajamas Kuina found she did not have much of an appetite. She sliced a few wedges from a mango in a fruit bowl, and ate them simply for the sake of eating.

Her rodent companion was awake and going for a world-record on most squeaks on a wheel in a minute. Kuina took a seat near the cage and watched the hamster run frantically, and even in his most noble effort, get nowhere. Seeing the creature reminded her too much of her own life. She was running, working, risking her life constantly but for what, exactly?

She slipped a piece of mango between the bars of the cage. The hamster paused in his epic race and crossed the pine bedding to the treat that had been left for him. He sat staring up at Kuina with beady eyes as he nibbled interestedly on the fruit.

"That's it, take a break, Ham." Kuina said softly, "I'm starting to think you and I need a lifestyle change."

* * *

_A/N: Go Hamster Analogy! Take that! It picks up, I swear, just be prepared for multi-character development. And no, if this woman wasn't entirely relevant to this story I wouldn't have wasted my time writing from her perspective. Mist isn't just a hub for violence, it's a haven for booze-hounds and pet owners too!_


	3. Politics, brought to you by mercenaries

_A/N: That was indeed Kimimaro making his brief, eight-year-old appearance, by the way, and he is due to return soon. Furthermore…_

* * *

The following morning Kuina was utterly thrilled. Upon glancing at her beaten-up calendar, she found that the next three days she had no work to speak of. This miraculous event did boost endorphin production in her brain, and for a few moments made the chipping paint on the ceiling and walls look like white marble. The whole world was suddenly beautiful. Peace, like a beacon in the dark, was able to chase the war away from her.

"Off du-ty!" She chanted, skipping around with a pear in her hand, "So…what's on the work-free agenda?" She had to consider it for a moment.

While munching breakfast, Kuina returned to her room and dressed, and then retrieved some money from her cookie-jar stash in the cupboard. First stop on the itinerary was the market.

Food shopping in Mist was a very cruel joke. There were imports of every kind, but the war had made things so incredibly expensive the shelves were always fully stocked. No one bought anything in the village, most typically because there were plenty of farmers and civilians to steal from out in the countryside. _'Shinobi always do prefer a free lunch.' _She though bitterly.

She flitted from one stand to the next, picking up the usual comestibles, and grudgingly handed over notes to the venders. A shrill laugh caught her attention, and Kuina looked across the street to see a gaggle of children playing ball in the road. Though she normally would have found it endearing, the scene quickly filled her with dread. The children were filthy and their parents were nowhere to be seen. _'I wonder if Kyonjin-sama is aware of this…when is he going to make an effort to protect the people inside his own village?' _She personally could not stand the notion of abandoned children, since she knew first-hand what it was like.

Around the corner in the retail district, or what was left of it, Kuina stopped outside of a shop window. She had a keenness for picking things that would help her career-wise. That could range from things including weaponry, medical supplies, and even attire. Her senses tingled as she spied the knee-high boots on display. Fashioned from thick material, most likely for kunoichi (_This is a wise shop-keeper indeed!_) these were too valuable to pass by. Her last pair of boots had been ruined by makibishi in a very hairy battle.

Kuina indulged the impulse and went inside. The shopkeeper looked stunned, as if he hadn't had a customer in days. After getting her boots she took pity on the man and bought new arm guards as well. She complimented him on the quality of the equipment, and dropped a hint that she would stop by in the future. Gratitude shown in his eyes as he saw her out.

An aspect of the market she did not like were the hack-merchants who sold all the war contraband. These curios often got swept up in-between towns in the countryside, stolen or otherwise, and were often repossessed or sold in Mist. Even though she didn't agree with the practice, Kuina still spared a glance at the stands from time to time. Her blood ran cold when she saw a familiar weapon at a station.

It was a twin-handled broadsword, uncannily similar in appearance to the one her sensei wielded. Though she hadn't seen the man in a long time (Kyonjin had sent him to spearhead the fighting on the frontlines) she prayed for his safety. Could he have been killed and plundered out in the field? It was highly, _highly, _improbable that the blade Hiramekarei had left her master's side, so she chose to relax. The pang of fear did make her wonder why he had still agreed to go where the fighting was worst, _'He always was a bit of a lunatic…' _

She was wary as she pressed further into the heart of the village with her purchases. Occasionally, as it had happened before, a thief would turn up and try to snatch what he could. It was always humiliating to beat up an unsuspecting and desperate homeless person, she thought, and then have to explain to Kyonjin and his officers why she'd done it. If she noticed any lurkers she planned to go by the rooftops.

Kuina did in fact encounter someone on the street, but it was a face she knew well.

"Guo! You're not at work?" She smiled when she saw him, "What are you doing out here?" For a brief moment she expected that his presence could indicate that she was needed at the hospital.

The young medic-nin greeted his superior, "I have to go back in by three, Chief. I was just going to catch some lunch."

She liked his response, "Can I join you? It'll be my treat!"

His cheeks went pinkish, "Well, Sempai…you really don't have to."

"We'll go halves, then?"

Guo agreed to it, and then changed course for a café up the road with Kuina. Since the heat was tolerable and a rare breeze was blowing in from the coast, they opted to eat at an outside table. Kuina stored her bags beneath her chair, and ordered whatever Guo was having when the server arrived.

"Have things been hectic today?" Kuina wondered.

"I wouldn't say so. We set a broken leg, took a young guy into surgery, and did a ton of stitches, but there haven't been any fatalities." Guo sighed heavily, "If only things could be this trivial everyday."

"Well what you just described was a standard day at the hospital a few years ago, but that's not the case anymore." Kuina folded her hands in her lap and added, "I don't want to push the blame on anyone, but…Kyonjin-sama doesn't seem to understand that the rebels are sorely lacking medical attention."

"What do you mean?" He sounded unnerved by her comment.

"We fix up our shinobi when they return from the battlefield, but think about those clans….the Kaguya and whoever else…they roll over and die without facilities or ways to fight infection. My point is that their numbers have to dwindle eventually, so it's only a matter of time until this ends, correct?" Kuina elaborated.

Guo scratched his chin, "Hm…well I suppose when you put it that way, that's the logical explanation. But frankly, Kyonjin-sama isn't interested in medical statistics. And it's also possible the rebels have hired outside help in that respect."

"Who would be crazy enough to lend aid to Mist revolutionaries?" Kuina muttered.

"Who knows? Rock and Sand are always looking for a good fight." Guo shrugged.

"They have their own problems, last I checked."

"Name one village that _isn't _having issues right now, Sempai." He chuckled.

The Leaf Village almost rolled off of her tongue, but Kuina refrained, not wanting to say anything too hasty. Her sister had been living in Leaf for many years now. According to her previous letter it seemed like the place to be, but she hardly knew a thing about it. She wouldn't want to risk leaving everything she had in Mist to start afresh in a foreign place.

The server came back with their meals, and while they ate Guo prattled on about how things could be improved at the hospital. They needed blood donations, better staff, functioning equipment, bigger facilities, and overall, more funds that Kyonjin was resolutely stubborn in supplying. Kuina could only listen distractedly to her friend. An unusual ringing in her ears signaled something; a sense of being watched.

Kuina peeked over her shoulder towards the street, but saw nothing aside from the normal bustle. She took another bite of chicken and tried to listen to Guo. The feeling persisted, and she glanced around expectantly, but could still see nothing suspicious.

"Something wrong, Chief?" Guo finally asked her.

"I just get the impression someone is watching us."

"We might be." He didn't seem bothered by it, "There are creeps everywhere these days."

"You sound like my sensei…"

Guo shuddered at the idea, "Your master wasn't a particularly trustworthy man, can I say, Sempai? That wouldn't be an accurate comparison."

"Oh come on! Higa-sensei may be crazy but it's not like he went _AWOL. _He's off fighting in the war to protect the village right now." Kuina defended, "You shouldn't listen to the rumors about him."

"Well I have heard quite a bit…" He replied lowly.

Kuina noted that the conversation could take a bad turn. There weren't many that shared her reverence for her master. Since she was for the most part finished with lunch, she excused herself politely, left money for her part of the bill, and went on her way.

After safely returning to her apartment she was able to relax fully. It was about the time she'd be out training or perfecting a new technique, Kuina noted, if not for the fact her team was dead. Her friend, turned teammate, turned lover, had died several years back, and since his death she had fallen out of touch with her teacher in turn. _'Funny how time flies for the broken hearted…'_

She was just as comfortable doing a whole lot of nothing for the rest of the afternoon. Kuina refilled her hamster's food bowl absently, and then hovered around her apartment putting away groceries. She let the radio play soft tunes in the background, but she was not moved by the music as she so often was. Her free time didn't mean much to her, she realized in a crushing moment, because there was no longer anyone to share it with. The days were empty, after the war had robbed her of her team.

'_I could go looking for Nago and Sashayma…' _She thought, _'But their agenda is pretty clear-cut. I don't want to go out drinking or, whatever it is they do these days…' _Hopefully not starting more bar-fights, she hoped. It was difficult to avoid bad influences, but she was no saint herself. In the back of her mind, however, there was one possibility Kuina had not yet explored. It would mean going fishing for trouble, of course.

She slipped her shoes back on numbly and left through the window. The heat was staggering, but maybe there would be some chilly relief somewhere.

* * *

Four days had dragged by uneventfully, and given Kuina some much needed rest. There hadn't been any emergency calls at the hospital for her, no devastating battles for the village to buzz about, and certainly no fun anywhere one looked. Mist was quickly becoming a black hole for entertainment.

Kuina had gone looking for Kamisori a few times, all in vain, and could only speculate his whereabouts. He was an interesting man to say the least, but Kuina concluded he was not the type that could be found: only encountered. Defeated in her search for a break in the monotony, Kuina reported to the Kyonjin's office on the fourth morning. He was pleased to hear that she had enjoyed her time off.

"Your services aren't required for any of the current missions I have prepared, but I must commend you for teamwork with Hayago a few days ago. You all made an invaluable discovery." Kyonjin told her, his cigarette clipped between his teeth.

"Did we?" She felt that the mission had been more or less a disaster.

"Yes. The Kaguya fled like rats from our counterforce."

Kuina glanced to Hayago where he stood a few feet away. His marred face betrayed no sign of pride over the news of their victory. Maybe he was still troubled about their loss of Oun? He and the young father had been friends for a long time, Kuina knew.

After being dismissed Kuina figured it couldn't hurt to ask Hayago a few questions outside of the office. "You've worked with most of the other jounin, right Hayago?"

He smiled slightly, "I would be the person to talk to about the rest of those fools, yes."

Kuina then didn't hesitate, "So it's possible that you know Kamisori?"

Hayago's orange gaze lingered on her for a long moment. He looked away and then answered, "I have been on a few missions with him. He is an efficient killer who can work very well in a unit, and also loves having women under him." He gave a small sigh, "Kuina…as your friend, I will advise you not to get any ideas about that fellow. His greatest talent, after all, is vanishing."

"I appreciate it." Kuina said, troubled by the information. Her impression had been quite different, but that, she thought, might have been the point.

A short while later she went to work a shift at the hospital with Guo. The week was uncharacteristically lacking chaos, and she wondered if it was possible the rebels had fallen back after the Kaguya's upsetting defeat. Kuina did have a fit when Nago turned up with a black eye.

"What in God's name have you been doing, Nago! Has Sashayma seen this?" Kuina hissed in aggravation, holding a bag of ice to her friend's face, "You better speak up…"

"So I got in another scrap with that butt-licker! Where's the fire lovey?" Nago said grudgingly.

"Iori, again?"

"Yeah, the one and only fuckface who can terrorize people even after being rejected for his gender." Nago took the bag of ice and held it herself, "Something had to give, Kuina, and it was my fist in his ugly mug!"

"Well I suppose that's adequate justification." Kuina conceded, "Just do me a favor, please, and stay away from dirtbags for a while?"

"My pleasure, love."

After sending Nago straight home with ice and a fairly clean bill of health, Kuina wrapped up her shift. Guo warned her of impending thunderstorms for the evening on her way out. Dark clouds sat motionlessly up above, waiting to burst with hail and lightning. Kuina had initially wanted to make a break for her apartment to take cover, but how could she? After spotting a shock of white hair outside of the armory, she was fairly certain she had found the person she was destined not to find.

She approached cautiously, suddenly and unnecessarily self-conscious. Her hair was tied up in a messy knot, and she still smelled of antiseptic and sanitation chemicals. Kuina smoothed the front of her shirt, glad he hadn't taken notice yet.

Kamisori had been talking to a sword smith, and it looked like they'd just finished making a deal. Once the white haired man had stepped out of the doorway, she gave a small, friendly wave. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

"We've been running into each other quite a bit, recently." He observed pleasantly.

"More so in this past month than in other years combined," She agreed, "And I suspect it's because you're following me."

There was a pause, and then his mouth curved into a small smirk, "You think so?"

"I have good evidence: a few days ago when I was shopping I couldn't shake a certain tagger who had more stealth than most of the boobs who normally stalk me." Kuina recounted, then added, "I'd be willing to overlook it if we go for a drink, though."

"Ah, another drink…"

"Yes, but not where we first met, since…some altercations have now left me unwelcome in that establishment." She amended, a bit sheepish.

Kamisori appeared mildly amused, but Kuina sensed something in his attitude that conveyed a lack of interest, or at least…he just didn't care as much as she would've liked.

To her relief, he suggested, "I have a place in mind. Have you eaten yet, Arashino-san?"

Her head nearly spun on her shoulders. She hadn't expected him to remember her name, let alone be so smooth about it. She admitted she had only eaten once that day and before she knew it, they were off to the uptown area; far away from her apartment and with few means to wait out a storm.

His stride was long and catlike, awkward-looking beside her measured, understandably shorter gait. She would have felt horribly inferior next to such a handsome man if not for the fact that he was purely intellectual. Almost immediately Kamisori found a subject they could relate on: the war. He contested the attack strategies employed by the Anbu, the uneven ratios of shinobi death and new trainees in Mist, as well as gripes about hopeful drug cartels investing in the rebellion. _'I hadn't even considered that.' _She thought to herself, _'How does he know all of this?'_

Kuina was thankful she hadn't found a boring person. He was opinionated, to a point, but after a while he stopped talking and started listening. So he was interested after all, she realized. Just shortly after beginning to explain her duties at the hospital they came to the tavern Kamisori had been seeking. They were seated promptly in a corner table just as thunder rolled lowly outside.

"Well you know the basics of being a Chief Medical Officer, now, Kamisori-san," Kuina said brightly, "But I don't know much about what it is you do. You work for Kyonjin-sama, you said?"

He was thoughtful for a moment, "That's true." He yielded, and took a sip of the wine they'd been served.

"What do loyalists do, exactly?" Kuina wondered.

"What you would expect any traitorous shinobi with a Kekkei Genkai to do: give away his clan's secrets." There was a bitter edge to his tone, "I have information on twelve different clans and families that the Mizukage has declared war on, and it's a wonder how they haven't yet realized how I've betrayed them."

"They don't _know?_" She was genuinely aghast.

"When you're a double agent, you make it a point to keep your goals ambiguous." Kamisori told her, "You have a much better job than I do, Arashino-san. In your case, you are encouraged to be honest, which is something I envy deeply."

"Please, call me Kuina." She offered, "And don't let dishonesty get you down, you're performing a true service for the Mist Village by infiltrating enemy lines."

His mismatched eyes strayed to the window, where blackness was creeping. "It isn't enemy lines I trespass on, but the defenseless homes of warring families. It's underhanded and duplicitous, and I have not been in an honorable battle since…" He trailed off, "But…yes, I suppose I am doing Kyonjin-sama a huge favor, aren't I?"

"Quite possibly doing all of us a favor." Kuina said, trying to lessen the tension, but in reality she understood it was difficult to value a village above one's own clan.

She had a field day keeping up with the man's narrations through dinner. She tried to eat with some dignity, even through the jaw-dropping stories, some of which she doubted the authenticity of, and was bothered to find she had little to offer by way of amazing tales. Kuina had considered mentioning her old team and their antics, but it was a wound she didn't feel like reopening that night.

A flash of lightning arced in the sky, but it still had not begun to rain. They drank round after round, and though Kuina knew better, she found she had fewer inhibitions because she wasn't babysitting Nago, or worrying about being caught in a bar-brawl. She tried some of what Kamisori had been drinking but it was much too strong. She downed a shot of it anyway, enjoying the soft haze drifting in front of her eyes.

Kamisori, infinitely wise, took the glass away from her, "You have spirit, no doubt, but I don't think you'd want to ruin a perfectly good meal, would you?"

"Point taken." She agreed, unable to hide the ridiculous smile on her face. Was this fun? It had been so long since she had last had any. Her head was spinning, and coupled with the thunder growing ever nearer, Kuina thought it best to set out home. She also had work tomorrow, which was another drawback. She wanted to pay the bill but Kamisori had already picked it up. Outside it was nearly pitch black, with few lights to illuminate the street that was already swirling before her very eyes.

"Where do you live?" He asked, slightly more sober than she, "I'll walk you back, Arashino-san."

"Thank you very much…um…fifth district." She replied, dizzy.

In this state, she concluded she could be mugged by even a grandmother.

It was nice to walk arm in arm with someone, and Kuina did her best not to humiliate herself in front of the man. Her attempt at small talk wasn't very good, unfortunately.

"Do you have a team, Kamisori?" She muffled a hiccup.

"I don't. I used to work with people from my clan, but that's unthinkable these days." He told her, "I am on my own."

"I'm on my own too." She related, "It makes the war seem…that much worse."

Back in the fifth district Kuina managed to locate her street and building, but as rain suddenly came down in a deluge it was hard to navigate afterwards. Kamisori used his blood limit to redirect the downpour from their persons. "Like some invisible umbrella." She had told him in a moment of idiocy.

To her surprise he suggested, "You should take a mission with me."

"I can't…I have work." She protested.

"Suit yourself. As it is, you'll be quite hung-over tomorrow." He pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. Work is work when you're me."

A bolt of lightning caught on a lightning rod across the street with a sickening crash. Kuina stumbled into her building, Kamisori on her heels, and tried her best not to fall up the staircase. She nearly somersaulted into her apartment, but entered with such grace it may have even looked deliberate.

"Could I join you for a cup of tea?" Kamisori asked politely.

"But of course." She lead him inside and shut the door behind them.

He was terribly efficient at drying off. With one swift hand motion Kamisori had collected the rainwater from himself and his companion and compressed it into a sphere. While Kuina regarded the trick interestedly, she decided to be logical. She lifted her tea kettle, "Want to help out?"

Kamisori donated the water for the sake of tea. Kuina had a bit of a time trying to light her stove, and after a few failed attempts, Kamisori aided her, all the while she giggled madly. He seemed to be entertained too.

While they waited for the water to boil, an obscure squeaking sound persisted somewhere in the darkness. "What is that?" He asked, baffled entirely by what it could be.

Kuina of course knew her hamster was going at it again on his wheel, but didn't feel that it was necessary to bring it up. "Don't worry about it." She advised.

He assisted her in finding mugs, and though it took a while, they located a pair of them just as the kettle began to whine. Kuina poured hot water onto their tea leaves, somehow managing not to scald herself. Kamisori thanked her for her generosity, and she nodded vaguely, realizing the tea wasn't helping her rapidly developing headache. She took a seat and sipped gingerly, her good mood starting to waver.

"I drank too much." She sighed resignedly, "And I always do my best not to imbibe, but when I do…"

"What's bothering you?"

"My head."

"Come here." Kamisori set his drink down and skillfully wound his hands near the back of her neck. He worked two pressure points near her nape that would relieve the pain, and it wasn't long before Kuina had melted under his ministrations. A soft sigh escaped her.

She considered letting him continue even after her head cleared up, but Kamisori sat back and regarded her with sleepy eyes, "And now?"

"Better, thank you."

Kuina sat across from the man as they sipped their tea. Lightning crashed dramatically outside, and the faint tinking of hail became audible. "Would you like to stay here until the storm ends, Kamisori-san?" Kuina offered, "I know rain wouldn't really hinder someone like you "

"I don't like lightning." He told her, "And I appreciate your hospitality." He took another sip of tea, training his eyes on the window beyond which the storm raged on.

Kuina stared down into her mug, and for a moment questioned her own actions. _'Of course you're a nice, generous person, no one doubts that…but why would you ask a man to stay here, honestly?' _Some small voice of rationality was breaking through the booze-induced fog, _'It's okay to admit you're lonely, and even better that you're finally having fun, but you're considering letting him stay! Considering letting him…'_

She looked up from her tea and shook her head, trying to reorder her thoughts. _'You only just met him. He's unique, granted, but remember what Hayago said? He's a player!'_

Or at least, that's what Hayago hinted at. He was quite vague, come to think of it. But Kuina still sensed that Kamisori was much more complex than some dime-a-dozen, tail-seeking ninja you could find anywhere in the village.

Complexity didn't necessarily mean he would be any less high-maintenance: not to mention crazy. There was only so much you could tell from a first date, she knew.

'_Was that even what it was? A date?' _The voice snorted, _'Don't do anything foolish, Arashino!'_

Kuina sighed to herself. She was at the point where she could offer the man an umbrella and send him home in the tempest. She was indeed frustrated with her boring life, but she wasn't willing to invite trouble just to shake things up.

"You seem restless." Kamisori spoke up suddenly, snapping her out of her mental argument, "I hope you at least had a good time this evening."

"Of course I did." She said, smiling, "I'm still having a good time, actually."

He smirked slightly, "That's kind of you, though I never count myself as pleasant company."

"Maybe for some, but you're very knowledgeable, and you sure can hold a conversation." Kuina replied brightly, "I hope I wasn't too dull."

His eyes narrowed by the slightest increment, "Oh…you're not dull at all, Arashino-san."

If she recalled correctly, she did give him permission to use her first name. He set his empty tea cup down on the table and crossed to the window, still watching the storm. Kuina did feel slightly edgy, sensing the tension his words had sparked. She needed to say something to try and lighten things up, "Is it improving out there at all?"

"No." He replied. Thunder rolled a few moments later.

Kuina wasn't sure if she'd feel more comfortable sending him home or standing right beside him. She finished her tea and stood, collecting his mug from the table, and went to rinse them in her sink. She had failed to ask him if he'd like some more, but if he'd really been interested, he would've asked earlier. She couldn't have been running the water for more than ten seconds before the power cut out. Darkness swallowed the room, and Kuina turned the tap off with a huff, "Crap."

She was a quick thinker, thankfully, and knew there were some spare candles in the topmost cupboards. Of course, being short and temporarily blind, she would have a hell of a time reaching them. "Um, Kamisori-san, could you lend me a hand over here?" She squeaked.

He brushed against her shoulder almost instantly, signaling his presence. "What can I do for you?" He sounded very amused. She took this as a good sign.

"Would you be so kind as to help me find some candles? They're in one of these cabinets…somewhere." When she had said this, she had hoped he could've pulled up a chair for her to stand on, or perhaps, he being taller, scrounge around himself. So when he lifted her up bodily, nearly cracking her head on the ceiling, Kuina was, to say the least, surprised.

Instead of saying something stupid, which she nearly did, Kuina hastily tore open the nearest cabinet and began riffling around. It shouldn't have felt so scintillating to be held, she thought; it was such a meaningless touch. But he was much stronger than she had given him credit for. He held her without complaint for a long while, occasionally chuckling when she cursed or bumped against something.

When her hand finally did close around a fair-sized candle, she drew it back a bit too fast. Her grip slipped and she dropped the blasted thing, hearing it contact the counter first, then hit the floor, and listened as it rolled away in the darkness.

"For God's sake!" She fumed, bracing her hands on Kamisori's shoulders, "I'm so sorry about this. I really wish I wasn't so " He had set her down again, "Clumsy."

"I can't complain." He said quietly.

Her hands were still on his shoulders, and the uncomfortable feeling was long gone. "Well I suppose, if it doesn't bother you…" She felt one of his hands rise up from her waist, a finger tracing her jaw delicately. Could he see? She wondered. Or it may have been a stray touch in the dark.

She began to doubt the chances of it all being accidental, especially when she felt his lips press lightly against her cheek. Kuina's breath hitched, _'Oh hell…' _and before she could make sense of it, before she could stop it, he was kissing her and she was in no way opposed to it.

Acknowledging that it was a bad idea, Kuina kissed back, as boldly as she dared. There was a shuffling of feet and then they were moving, roaming blindly in the dark, bumping into tabletops and walls and corners, kissing and touching as if they were starved of it. The hamster wheel was still squeaking persistently, and Kuina almost thought to laugh in that moment, but Kamisori was all over her.

Finally Kuina's back hit a wall, and the shinobi she'd had dinner with pressed her against it, kissing the corners of her mouth gently. He wasn't as tough as he had let on, she figured, a fact that brought her a great deal of relief. To her left she noted the doorway that led to the bathroom, and to her right was the door to her bedroom. Knowing she'd probably kick herself for doing it later, she pulled him to the right.

* * *

By morning the storm had passed. Kuina woke slowly with a wordless groan, her head muddled with an unwelcome hangover. She noted, with half-open eyes, that her sheets were twisted rather peculiarly around her legs, _'Now how…?' _and that she was quite naked, _'Wait a second__!' _and sat up immediately, her hair stuck up at odd angles.

The space beside her that had once been occupied was now empty. She propped her chin up with her hand and let out a long sigh. _'Well, I knew from the start it wouldn't end well.' _Kuina thought sourly, _'Can't get your dreams in this village…hm…I wonder how long it took before he bolted?' _There was no way to tell, as it was, she hardly knew a thing about such encounters. Her first and last one-night stand.

In hindsight, she found as she stood and made her bed, it had all been rather stupid. Kamisori was attractive, of course, but in more ways than one. She would have preferred to hold off on things if there was a chance she could have just been his friend. Friendship had a better shelf-life, she believed. Now she'd be lucky to ever see him again, Kuina thought, since it was tough enough running into him by chance. She didn't see the point in blaming herself, however, since she had no prior experience with such things.

Deciding to not take it personally, Kuina fished some fresh clothes from her closet and dressed. She stretched as she walked half-awake down the hall, and after rounding the corner nearly jumped out of her skin.

Kamisori was standing in her kitchen.

She stood flummoxed, mouth agape, and watched as he made two cups of tea. Kuina lightly slapped her face a few times before deciding the scene was rooted in reality. It did help that he was fully dressed. _'Must be a morning person.' _She figured.

Kamisori faced her after a moment, his expression smug, "I like your hair."

Kuina hurriedly combed her fingers through it, mortified.

He waved off her concerns. "Come sit down." He told her. She did just that. She took a seat across from him at the table and thanked him for the tea.

"You didn't mention you had a pet." He gestured towards the hamster cage in the other room.

"Ah, well…all that squeaking last night…I thought it'd be a turn off." Kuina took a slurp of her drink, wishing she wasn't so damn honest all the time.

He smiled a dastardly smile, "It was no such distraction."

Her face heated up. Maybe now was the best time to speak candidly? Kuina cleared her throat before asking, "Please don't take this badly, but…why are you still here?"

Kamisori's blue eyes met with hers, clear and searching. "I have not met anyone like you." His expression was mischievous, "Did you expect to brush off this encounter? I was under the impression that the attraction was mutual."

"N-No! Of course I like you!" Kuina raised her hands up in defense, "It's just that…I'm surprised…I'm not exactly the kind of woman men chase after."

Kamisori remained silent, and she was hoping that wasn't his way of agreeing. She sipped her tea, knowing that he was thinking about something.

What she was feeling then felt an awful lot like what she had felt a few years earlier. The feeling of rising so rapidly that her stomach did loops…followed by crushing disappointment and heartache. _'If I am actually…going to go through with this…I am setting up ground rules now!' _She thought to herself, _'I will __**not **__repeat what happened last time.'_

"Kamisori?" His gaze returned to her when she spoke, "Listen, there's no way I can put this articulately so I'm just going to say it: if you're…trying to mess with my head, or finances, or career…just leave now. I'm not going to make time for anyone two-faced. I've had my share of…bad experiences…and quite frankly, not one among your gender has redeemed men in my eyes so far."

"Ah…" He considered what she had said, then replied, "You are making a perfectly reasonable request. Though on what grounds, may I ask, do you distrust me?"

"Well Hayago-sempai informed me that "

"Hayago is one of your friends?" Kamisori frowned a bit, "He is not very fond of me."

"He indeed made that clear…" Kuina agreed, rubbing her forehead as it began to throb.

Kamisori leaned on the table, "If your hesitation is a question of faithfulness then you needn't worry." He was smirking, "You have easily engaged my devotion."

She laughed, "Smooth! But unlike most women I " Kamisori interrupted her, looming over her in a way that mandated her full attention.

"If **I **may now be frank with you, Kuina, it sounds to me as if you are comparing yourself to other women of this village…" He had an affinity for making a point, "May I be so bold as to say that what you are thinking is utter nonsense, and that if you would be willing to take on a challenge such as myself I can make it worth your while for a very long time."

Kuina felt the uncertain tingling feeling in her stomach subside into a thrilled hum.

"Well when you put it that way…" She sipped her tea, grinning to herself, "I really can't afford to argue with you…"

His strange eyes were boring holes into her head, and when she met them with her own stare his mouth contacted hers almost instantly. Kuina kissed back gingerly, her head swimming with a mixture of hangover and euphoria. She pushed against his shoulders, mentioning, "I'm…going to work."

His eyes were still closed, intent on continuing the kiss. Kamisori's face hovered near hers for a tantalizing moment before he drew back, sighing with minor frustration.

"Hey, is it too much to ask if…" Kuina's paused, her eyebrows knitting, "If when I get back later you'll be here?"

Kamisori finished his tea, watching her.

"I can accommodate you."

* * *

Zabuza did not have time to prepare when a member of his Anbu squadron appeared in his apartment. He was no fan of other shinobi showing up at random, but he had no control over it. Not much topped the easy living of government-provided housing. After throwing on a flak vest and seizing Kubakiri Houcho out of habit, Zabuza set out. He understood that the meeting was meant to be informative and not a briefing for a mission. The Mizukage obviously wanted everyone of consequence in attendance.

The heat was oppressive in the administration office. Several jounin and black ops were present, having just received the word as well. Zabuza stood off to the side of the room, keeping his eyes fixed on Kyonjin as the lump of a man leaned on his desk and lit a cigarette.

The Mizukage exhaled a gray line of smoke before addressing his shinobi, "I am going to cut straight to the chase of why you're here. I congratulate all of you for coordinating and successfully driving back the rebellion threat that surfaced this past week. However, part of the attack force that drove out the Kaguya regiment, as you know, suffered casualties. There was only one captured, and interestingly enough…it was our own loyalist Kaguya Shon."

A ripple of suspicious murmuring coursed through the cramped space. Zabuza did not react outwardly, but was still taken aback. Shon had been a member of the Seven Swords. More importantly, he had been one of the few members Zabuza had respected. The Kaguya clan was probably making a statement of some kind by leaving one of their own, however disloyal, alive.

Zabuza glanced toward the back of the room to where Kurosuki Raiga was standing. Another former member of the Swords, about Zabuza's age. Zabuza considered him dense, fidgety, and unable to think for himself without direct leadership. Worse still was that once the Swords had been disbanded, Raiga had not been too broken up about it. He had almost immediately sworn himself into the Anbu for a cozy, lap-dog lifestyle and quickly dusted his hands of his former teammates. After a few beats Zabuza returned his attention to the front of the room.

Kyonjin continued, "This incident has proven to be advantageous. With the Kaguya domain exposed, Mist will be able to exploit their lowered defenses. Sufficient intelligence has been projected to be gathered within the month, and with that data a task force will be sent to accompany Utakata. Once the Kaguya have been eliminated, the remaining clans will soon follow…"

Zabuza restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Sending Utakata would be effective…provided his auxiliary team got him into the Kaguya fortress _alive_.

A few reports followed up Kyonjin's announcement before all were dismissed. One of the Water Country's diplomats who had been present at the meeting suggested the shinobi get vaccinated in the tower lobby, "Half the village is suffering already…"

The ninja moved out, but only a handful took the stairwell down to the lobby. Zabuza caught the eye of Kamisori, one of the elder members of the Swords, though he no longer carried his blade with him. Zabuza felt utterly neutral about the white haired loyalist, and on a good day maybe even a shred of camaraderie for him. His arms were crossed and he wore a dark look. He nodded slowly when Zabuza came to stand by him.

"I suspected they might pull a stunt like this…" He smirked wickedly at Zabuza, "We are very decent bait, aren't we?"

"Shon does not fall into that category…" Zabuza disagreed, "He could kill them all himself…he wouldn't have gotten dragged back to that hell-hole without a reason."

"Because Kyonjin probably ordered him to surrender. He would not hesitate to oblige such a request." Kamisori speculated, "I, on the other hand, would not approve of becoming a lure for the Yuki. Hopefully Mizukage-sama will think better of repeating the strategy with other clans…"

Zabuza gave a hoarse, bark of a laugh at the thought.

"You've been well it seems, Zabuza staying out of trouble." The white haired nin observed, "I'm surprised you haven't started an uproar about the Mizukage by now."

Beneath bandages his mouth drew into a grimace, "Don't hold your breath. I was through with Kyonjin the moment he sat his fat ass down in that office chair…"

"You are still young and rash, I see."

"I can't take him out on my own. He's too heavily guarded." Zabuza announced quietly, "I need someone I can trust to make sure a coup goes our way…"

Kamisori sighed heavily. Of course he would want to overthrow the Fourth now. Back when the Seven Swords had been ordered to disband, it had just not been a viable option to kill the new leader…and risk incurring the combined wrath of the desperate inhabitants of the Mist Village. _'And now all this time later, as we have seen the full extent of his incompetence…it's too late to act. The Seven are scattered and weak. It would take too much time and effort to coordinate a coup d'état…'_

Zabuza gave Kamisori a sharp look, "What? You can't seriously be content with that shit-for-brains politician!"

"Certainly I'm not. I think he is a self-serving fool who has botched the recovery of our village." Kamisori ran his hand through his hair, frustrated, considering a response that would not discourage his old comrade.

"I will…" Kamisori lowered his voice, sure to not be overheard, "…help you however I can, though it will be on _my_ terms. It is going to take some time before we can satisfactorily destroy the Mizukage." He chuckled darkly adding, "And it also depends on my returning to this village alive."

Zabuza was silent, waiting for an explanation.

"In four weeks I am expected to report back to the Yuki house." Kamisori clarified, "By now they ought to suspect something. I imagine that I might be rudely welcomed upon my return."

"You're still trying to keep up that charade?"

"For a month longer than I was meant to."

The younger shinobi shook his head, knowing it was a gamble. It was almost painfully obvious that Kamisori was siding with Mist, and there was likely no way he could justify his extended absence to his clan.

Kamisori added, "I do have one idea…one that might eliminate the suspicions of the Yuki."

"Yeah, and they'll see right through you…"

"No…I assure you, Zabuza, it's nothing that you'd ever dream up yourself." The white haired nin simpered.

"Whatever."

Kamisori adjusted the sleeves of his gi, concluding, "Keep me informed of Shon's condition. We'll discuss the takeover plan within a month, hopefully, but I can't stay."

Zabuza gave him a prying look, "Leaving already? What mission were you assigned to?"

"No mission." Kamisori said, turning to leave, "I am expected to be somewhere shortly."

The white haired man departed, leaving promptly through an upper level exit of the tower. Zabuza stood in the empty hallway for a lulling moment. He had forgotten that Kamisori, while he was older, wiser, and skilled, could at times say the most annoying shit. He made a low sound of exasperation in his throat before moving to the stairwell.

Down in the lobby several jounin had already been vaccinated and were leaving the tower. Two medic nin were present. One of them was the blue haired medic Zabuza recalled seeing report to Kyonjin frequently, and held the title "Chief Medical Officer." _'Just another way to refer to one of his favorite pawns.'_

Zabuza stepped up to the table and the squirrelly man asked for his name, allergies, and requested his signature. A moment later he was seated and the Chief Medic sterilized a spot on his arm with a swab.

She smiled at him, "Well you never miss a vaccination, do you, Momochi-san?" She injected him expertly, and re-swabbed him within a second.

He grunted, not interested in conversing. It was true. He never missed one. But the medic was so outgoing that it was difficult to look her in the face. She was not annoying, if he recalled, but he didn't like how she remembered _everything _and how she was so…relentlessly polite. It was just downright weird and uncharacteristic of Mist.

"Good. Consider yourself armed and ready against this season's influenza. It'll be much worse by autumn." The Chief nodded, bid him good day, and then moved on to the chunin waiting in line.

Zabuza's gaze flicked to the building's exit, and clearly visible through the glass beside the doorway smoke was rising from the street. He crossed over to the door and lingered, watching in a moment of confusion as rubble rained down from an adjacent building. After a moment it registered that some sort of battle was taking place, but not before the old jounin he knew was called Hayago had raced past him into the road, warning of an attack.

Quick on Hayago's heels was the Chief Medic, and then Zabuza moved, knowing it never did any good to rush into anything blindly.

An exchange of jutsu unfolded before his eyes and Zabuza leapt with stoat-like agility, his instincts demanding that he reach higher ground. Flames streaked along the road and pedestrians dove for cover. Hayago responded by firing water jutsu back at the attacker on a railed rooftop. Pressurized jets burst from the decorative koi pool beside the Administrative building, just barely missing the unidentified rogue.

The assailant had a partner down on the street, and Zabuza could see the medic had quickly discovered him. She clashed with the unknown shinobi, capably wheeling a chain scythe and maneuvering her opponent away from civilians. Zabuza swiftly caught up with the nin racing over the rooftops as he was chased by Hayago's water assault.

Zabuza evaded as fire jutsu rushed at him. It was a simple matter of distracting the enemy with a water clone before he came up from behind the strained rogue. Zabuza tore a crippling gash in his back with a swipe of his blade, and the outsider folded like a piece of snipped ribbon. Hayago's jutsu immediately subsided, and the veteran rushed to help the Chief Medic finish off the other intruder.

With a snarl Zabuza kicked the dead rogue off of the rooftop. The body fell to the sidewalk; limbs askew and blood everywhere. He descended down to ground level as citizens began to peak out from their temporary shelters. Nearby the Councilor's building was smoldering and Zabuza guessed the saboteurs had set a bomb off in the hopes of eliminating someone important. They had paid a very heavy price.

The second unknown shinobi was unconscious and bound in chains, likely to be kept for questioning. Hayago was barking orders at approaching chunin to report to the Mizukage.

Kuina walked over to the shinobi Zabuza had slain. She wore a disappointed look, "It's weird…"

Zabuza slung his Seversword onto his back, looking at her. "What is?" He grunted.

Kuina gestured to the fallen rogue, "Just before I had vaccinated the both of them…fat lot of good that did…"


	4. This learning curve is a parabolic arc

_A/N: Should be doing homework._

* * *

The Kaguya estate was not a traditional property. It was comprised of several semi-subterranean buildings in a defensible, thickly forested valley-region that was never, ever reached by outsiders. No one in the Water Country dared trespass.

There was no need for sophistication if there were no visitors to impress, so the architecture was conservative and durable. The grounds of the Kaguya lair had beautiful wildflowers that were, on occasion, tended by servants or clan members who were not fighting-fit.

Shinobi of the Kaguya clan who stepped off of the grounds melted into the surrounding woodland. So treacherous was the environment that it was said that disobedient children of the clan were left there for days as punishment. The older, experienced ninja could navigate the area instinctively.

Kimimaro watched from the porch of the scullery as shinobi darted in and out of the tree line. The Kaguya were only ever busy in wartime. They loved to keep busy.

He had already been brought into battle four times. The most recent incident had left him particularly educated. He had nearly killed a Mist jounin. The fact that the enemy had escaped with his life, he was told, meant that he was a failure who had to regain his honor in battle. Kimimaro felt that he had been lucky just to hit the enemy. He remembered being outnumbered and numb with terror.

Children of the Kaguya were taught that fear needed to be discarded. Stomped out. There were exercises every day for the sole purpose of obtaining composure and level-headedness in battle. Meditation, mock-fights, and being left to fend for themselves in random places within the valley were the most common training methods. Kimimaro, for his young age, was advancing rapidly, though he still hated going with his superiors into skirmishes.

A squawk came from the scullery and Kimimaro hustled into the kitchen. One of the superiors assigned him to watering-duty in the barracks. In a quiet voice he acknowledged his orders, and slinked off to fill a bucket of water at the tap.

As he filled the pail he watched as other children ran about in the yard. They never played for sport and good fun. Everything was competitive. Everything was about survival. The older children never hesitated to push smaller, younger children down. It was how they made each other stronger. Kimimaro was told he was much too strong to play with other children, and so he dutifully kept his distance.

Kimimaro finished filling the bucket, retrieved a ladle from a hook near the pantry, and then moved quickly across the courtyard to the bigger buildings. The barracks also housed prisoners, and there were never too many of those. Kimimaro knew his task would not take long.

Once inside the central building of the estate Kimimaro kept his head bowed as he traveled through each corridor. If he but looked a superior in the eye he could be beaten. Children, especially those in training, were expected to mindlessly submit to and obey their elders. His mother and father had been well respected within the clan, but no matter the esteem of a trainee's parents, children were always kicked around.

Kimimaro successfully made it to the stairwell that lead to the prison-hold without drawing any attention. He carefully made his way down the steps. It was a task he had performed so many times his balance was flawless, and he even made it look somewhat graceful.

At the bottom of the stairs the basement was damp and poorly lit. Kimimaro proceeded in silence down the cavernous tunnel, checking each cell for an occupant. There were twenty cells, several of which were being used for storage of contraband. He only encountered two prisoners, dirty and hungry, who held out their bowls for water.

Towards the end of the stretch Kimimaro considered the guard who was fast asleep in his chair. He had never been much of a shinobi, but he was a good enforcer in the barracks. Kimimaro passed the snoring man to the last cell, in which, to his surprise, he found a man.

The young Kaguya looked through the wooden bars of the hold, seeing that the inhabitant was new. Spell tags had been affixed to the bars of the cell in order to drain the man's chakra.

"Give me your bowl." He droned, having repeated the line hundreds of times. His typical response was silence and the lifting of some ragged container. Other times scraps or rubbish were thrown at him, accompanied with cursing or snarling.

Kimimaro was otherwise unprepared when the man in the cell stepped forward and spoke to him. "Now didn't your mother teach you any manners? I may be a captive, good child, but I am still your elder."

Eyes wide, Kimimaro repeated himself, "Uh…give me your bowl, please?" It had been a _long _time since he had said anything like that.

The man smiled gently and offered up a porcelain cup, "That's more like it. Thank you." He accepted the water and drank it down. The man seemed too healthy and relaxed to fit the prisoner ticket.

Kimimaro stared at the man. His hair was dirty white, framing his face in a dramatic bob. His skin had a good color to it and he appeared well-fed. He wore fine clothes and a splendidly decorated haori, and Kimimaro could not find any of the average indicators that this person had indeed been captured.

"When did you get here?" Kimimaro asked, wondering if he could get away with speaking to a prisoner.

"Oh…not long ago." The man took a seat on the floor, and then pointed to the sleeping guard, "See him over there? Could you kindly reach into his pocket and take what he's got? Just there, no he doesn't have any keys. You don't have to let me out, God that would be foolish for the both of us…"

Kimimaro hesitated, but after a long moment he set the bucket down. He turned to the snoozing hulk in the chair and reached a small hand into the pocket of his coat. What he retrieved was a small silk bag.

"Good!" The man in the cell encouraged, "He's got a bit more than that. Could you hand it to me? Yes, you've got a good head on your shoulders…"

Kimimaro reached again and withdrew another small bag and some slips of paper. Unsure of what they were, but fairly certain they weren't keys, he handed them over to the man through the bars of the cell. Kimimaro was a bit surprised by his actions. He was more surprised that he had reached into the hold without getting his arm snapped off.

The man graciously took the bags with a nod of his head, then went to work. Kimimaro watched as the prisoner tipped flakes onto a small paper slip and then rolled it. The man glanced over to Kimimaro and chuckled, "You know I'd give you one, but you don't want to get caught doing something improper in this house! For your sake I'll happily take the blame, if it comes to it, I'd never mention a good boy like you…"

Finally Kimimaro asked, "You're a Kaguya, aren't you?"

The man nodded, "Yes that's right. The only sane one, at any rate."

"You must have betrayed the clan."

"Smart boy." The man chuckled, drawing a lighter out of his belt, "So who is your father? I probably know him."

"Eriasu-sama…but he died."

"Oh, he did? Well you look like one of his; he had a clean bloodline." He lit the rolled paper and took a puff, "Which one's your mom?"

Kimimaro wrapped his hands around the bars of the cell. "Yuto." His voice wavered, "Do you…do you know where she is? She didn't come back from the last raid…"

"Ah…that's not a good sign." The man said, sounding sympathetic, "What are you called?"

"Kimimaro."

"Well then, Kimimaro. Remember that the trick to surviving around here is to _not _always listen to what your superiors tell you. In the end, they are just going to use you up…just like they used your dad and mom…like they did me." The man sighed before taking a long drag.

Kimimaro sunk to his knees, suddenly feeling weak, "If I don't do what I'm told I'll be killed…"

"I didn't do what I was told; do I look dead to you?"

"No, but soon you will be."

"Oh please, Kimimaro! I am too strong and valuable to be killed. I can leave whenever I will it, but for now I am waiting for a signal." The man told the boy, exhaling slowly, "Don't be such a downer…"

"I wish I could leave this place." Kimimaro said softly.

"You just might…"

Kimimaro shook his head, still holding on to the bars of the cell. There was no way out. No way to get beyond the wilderness. The cold, indifferent blackness of the forest that swallowed up insolent children and spat out obedient soldiers. There was no way to find the ocean that was rumored to surround the Land of Water. The Kaguya said they never had any use for water.

Shouting drifted down the hallway from the stairwell. Kimimaro straightened out immediately, his eyes alert. He glanced one last time to the mysterious, smoking Kaguya in the cell. He nodded to Kimimaro, gesturing his head toward the exit.

Kimimaro stood, collecting the bucket quietly, and raced past the slumbering guard. Soon he would come back to the man's cell to give water, and he would ask the questions his clan had forbade children to ask.

* * *

During Kuina's first week of dating Kamisori she came into a wealth of knowledge. They got along very well because Kamisori was nearly always willing to indulge her inquiries.

Her first course of action, naturally, was to take him to the hospital for a thorough exam. He was able to tolerate her testing his sight and hearing, his reflexes, and her insistence to get a blood sample. Kamisori could sense she had the best intentions, and figured it couldn't hurt to share information on his physical health.

In a short span of time she had returned to the examination room he was sitting in. She entered with a clipboard and a folder tucked under her arm, and she was smiling as if she had discovered some hidden treasure. Kamisori looked at her from his seat, adjusting his gi since she had taken it off earlier.

Kuina listed many things he already knew: height, weight, blood group, his perfect dental record, number of broken bones, most serious injuries, and the lack of diseases that she had originally suspected to be common in clan-bred shinobi.

But then she talked about other things: the birthmark on his back, his minority hair color in a clan of brunettes, immunities that he had, how he inherited left handedness, how he was extremely allergic to soy, and other such observations.

Kamisori was surprised that Kuina could decipher so much about a person during such a brief inspection. She held up a chart as if she expected him to understand the jargon scrawled all over it.

"I thought when I had first met you that you had an eye problem, but it turns out you have _Heterochromia_." Kuina told him, rolling around in a desk chair.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"Ah, well, in your case it's just a condition in which one iris has a different pigment than the other." She explained, gesturing to his eyes, "Your left eye has low melanin content, and your right has about average. Two different shades of blue is not normal."

He blinked, having never considered it before. His eyes had always been that way.

"Physical trauma or disease can alter eye pigments, but you, Kamisori, are a genetic case. I did a background check for _Waardenburg Syndrome _but you're all clear." Kuina assured him.

"Good." He said, not very learned in medical terms.

Afterward they returned to Kuina's home. Kamisori hardly returned to his place of residence since it was more convenient to have shelter within Mist.

Some of his belongings began turning up in her apartment. Another toothbrush had found a home above her bathroom sink. Men's clothing had snuck into her closet and drawers. Weapons were far more plentiful, and the tea kettle was boiling water at all hours of the day. Kuina's cookie jar stash of money in the cupboard was routinely filled. More mason jars had joined the original stockpile, thanks to her new companion.

Sharing her living space had taken some getting used to. Kamisori never crowded her, though. They ate and slept together without any difficulty. It was refreshing to have intelligent conversation with another person in her home. She never had to assign him chores because he completed them long in advance. She could not remember a time when her kitchen sink had lacked dirty dishes.

The only issue they had run into was the air conditioner abruptly blowing a gasket in the height of summer. Kuina counted herself very lucky to have a boyfriend who could cool down a room without so much as batting an eyelash, _'Who would've thought I knew how to pick 'em?'_

And when things seemed too good to be true at times, her friends gave her the sobering facts.

"He takes S-Rank missions frequently. Not into direct combat, of course, but he still puts himself at great risk infiltrating rebel estates." Hayago reminded her, "Don't fall apart when you get bad news, Kuina-san."

"He's a very good actor, Sempai. He has to be! How do you think he has Mist _and _the Rebel forces wrapped around his finger?" Guo had added.

"I get it! I get it!" Kuina had replied, frustrated, "Anything could go wrong! That's how things **work **around here! You think I wasn't aware of that before I got myself into this situation? Go ahead and criticize him, but what can I say? He keeps me company and I've learned _a lot _from him!"

Hayago and Guo stopped pestering her after the second week. Though whenever Kamisori stopped by the hospital to pick Kuina up after her shift, both men gave the white haired shinobi sharp looks.

The one major drawback to dating Kamisori, Kuina found, was no drawback at all. He trained frequently, exhaustingly, and quickly incorporated her into his routine.

She had been shown an ideal place to perfect techniques outside of the Mist Village. The woodland was nearly impenetrable on the far side of the main island. A wide river loped through the valley, dividing the landscape. Beneath pale rays of sunlight breaching the thick canopy, Kuina was shown just how weak she was.

Kamisori threw her, however harmlessly, around the training field. He was very proficient in taijutsu, to her shock, and he was constantly correcting her stances. She admitted inwardly she had become very sloppy since she had stopped training under Higa-sensei. Much like her mentor had, Kamisori drilled forms into her head until they became second nature again.

What did please Kamisori was Kuina's untouchable chakra control. It was so honed and poised to strike that she could throw punches much the way the Legendary Tsunade did. She was still out of practice, though. He had her repeat everything until he estimated she could match him properly.

Her skill with weaponry redeemed her. She used a chain scythe most frequently, however she had caught him unawares when she had unleashed a handful of senbon that had numbed both of his arms. His fingers lost all communication with his brain and he halted, acknowledging that he needed her to undo what she had done before he could use jutsu again. Her knowledge of pressure points began to rub off on him, in turn, and he considered developing a technique to reflect what he had learned.

Kamisori demonstrated to her higher level ninjutsu that she absorbed like a sponge. Perhaps Hayago would stop whining about him being a bad influence on Kuina when he saw the kunoichi utilizing new techniques. _'This can be nothing but beneficial…'_

Kuina thoroughly enjoyed training with Kamisori, clashing with him as fiercely as she had dared. Once he began to use his Kekkei Genkai, however, she often had to surrender. He could completely morph an environment, manipulating ice to attack in whatever way suited the occasion. She knew she was a Medic nin precisely for that reason. There was no way to match the devastating power of a bloodline limit. To that end, she had chosen a profession that could counter the devastating harm inflicted by clan shinobi.

She watched as ice shimmered past her face in shards. Kuina knew when it was time to call it a day.

It was a strange thing to relearn what she had so quickly forgotten. Her skills were gradually polished by Kamisori's repetition and criticism. Working at the hospital had dulled what she had once been capable of on a team. Soon, he had said, he would join her on a mission.

* * *

By the third week Kamisori knew her schedule to a "T".

She worked four days out of the week, typically night shifts at the hospital, unless otherwise specified to take a mission. Kuina slept like the dead during the daytime, after working. Kamisori did not make a habit of watching her, but he did note how she slept soundly with a serene expression.

During her daylight inactivity Kamisori often went out on his own. There was always a task Kyonjin needed complete, or some food item that had run out. In fact, he did much of what he normally did. The only knew aspect of the routine was that he had effectively carved out a niche in Kuina's home.

For the three days Kuina did not work Kamisori commanded her time. He made sure to keep her on her toes. Her techniques could be shoddy some days. She occasionally proved to have butter-fingers, and at the rarest of moments she held short-lived arguments with him.

Kamisori had never been the type to quarrel. Though she knew nothing of his past affiliation with the Swords, Kamisori recalled keeping out of most of their disputes.

While growing up at the Yuki homestead with his sister, he had often been chastised for his benevolent ways. As a child he had been outgoing and helpful. When he was reminded that kindness weighed little during times of conflict, he slowly began to retreat into an indifferent nature. Kamisori had buried his sympathy thoroughly by the time he had inherited one of the Seven's blades.

Though Kuina did at times compel him to show compassion. Treating her with small affections almost came naturally, in spite of years of emotional restraint.

She walked around her apartment cleaning, and singing in a decent key to songs on the radio. When they had tea or sat idly for any sort of relaxation he would touch her thoughtlessly, as if to confirm she had not evaporated. Kuina was good-humored, bright, and respected his privacy, often rewording her questions when she noticed they rubbed him the wrong way.

Her friendship, he thought, could potentially outlast any other companionship he'd shared with anyone else in his life.

It did help that she was petite, nimble, and blessed with a body that he liked to claim hungrily. Having sex, while extremely satisfying, was not as frequent as either would have liked. Kuina's shifts at the hospital proved to be obstacles. Besides being gone all night, she would return at daybreak exhausted and incomprehensible. She fell asleep before he could speak two words.

Typically she roused by mid-afternoon. He would wait until she awoke; until she peered with amethyst eyes across the room to wherever he lingered.

"What…" She paused to yawn, "…should we do about dinner tonight?"

"I'll make whatever's around." He told her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Kuina smiled into her pillow, _'He cooks…'_

* * *

The war was going sourly, Kimimaro determined, since the adults had become significantly more aggressive. Brawls erupted in nearly every corner of the estate, mostly between shinobi.

Such moments of distraction often afforded Kimimaro the time to sneak into the barracks.

One of the prisoners had since disappeared from his cell probably executed. The Kaguya prisoner, however, remained in pristine health. He must not have been taken very seriously by the clan. The past few weeks the guards had hardly patrolled the hall.

Kimimaro came with water faithfully, asking about the Mist Village.

"Why is the Mizukage doing this to the clans of our country?" Kimimaro took a seat on the dirt floor, "I was told he wanted to be an ally of the clans."

"What clan would want to form an alliance with someone who had insulted them?" The prisoner replied, chuckling.

"You make…a lot of sense."

The man sighed, "To _you _I make sense, though many would disagree. Even in Mist people made a habit of discrediting me."

"How long were you in the Mist Village?"

"A good long time…plenty of time to learn politics." The prisoner said, "I was one of the Seven Swordsman of the Mist, Kaguya Shon."

Kimimaro stared at the man wordlessly.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Where is your sword?" Kimimaro asked, disbelieving.

Shon rolled back the sleeve of his haori, exposing the skin of his left forearm. An odd, asymmetrical summoning seal was visible.

"I don't see a sword." Kimimaro confirmed.

"Well of course you don't, silly child!" Shon muttered, "Did you consider it would draw a bit too much attention to expose _Kabutowari_? Much less that I am sorely lacking chakra at the moment?"

The boy quailed, "Oh…"

Shon regarded Kimimaro for a moment before smiling softly, "You won't learn much staying here. Perhaps if you help me once more…I can take you to a place better than this."

Kimimaro stood, approaching the bars of the cell. "You mean the Mist Village?" He asked in a whisper.

"Trust me, that's no place a kid like you would want to go during a _war._" Shon corrected him, "You'd quickly be made into one of the Mizukage's loyalist dogs."

"But then where ?"

"Will you help me or not? I don't have much time here."

Kimimaro glanced down the corridor. Seeing it empty steeled his nerves.

"What can I do, Shon-sama?"

Shon stood, dusting his pants off. He gestured towards the cell bars, "Take these slips down. I need to start restoring my chakra."

"If I get caught !"

"You're not very clever, are you?" Shon murmured, "Get _blank _slips, child. Draw imitative characters on them! Have you ever deceived anyone in your life?"

Kimimaro frowned, "I'm no good at it."

"Great. An honest kid. How about you just do it, hm? If we get caught however unlikely that is, then blame me! I could just as easily bribe a guard to do it…"

The boy blinked, having never considered such a thing.

"Well?" Shon pressed.

Kimimaro silently began tearing the tags from the cell bars. He worked quickly, troubled that there were dozens of slips. It would take quite a bit of work to put up fake inhibitors.

Once he had removed all of the tags Shon had told him to hurry along. Kimimaro moved swiftly up the stairs and out of the building, unnoticed. Kimimaro felt that though he was truthful he was shrewder than most at the estate.

While remaining inconspicuous Kimimaro slinked across a courtyard to another building. He knew children were not permitted inside, but the place had been largely unused as of late. Carefully sliding the door open, he entered the study. In a flash of urgency he snatched up a stack of parchment, ink, and a brush. Kimimaro made haste back to the barracks, hoping he had not been spotted.

Back in the dank tunnel Kimimaro returned to Shon's cell and its bare wooden bars. Shon was laughing at him, "Well you're quick, alright…"

Kimimaro set the paper down on the guard's chair. He eyeballed the size of one of the slips he had torn down, judging it to the best of his ability. Shon watched as the boy produced a tiny, razor-like bone from the tip of his finger and resized the parchment. Once it looked convincing he tried his hand at painting the characters.

'_I've never been much good at calligraphy…' _Kimimaro acknowledged, but the symbol on each tag was crude. He mimicked them with childish brush strokes, ignoring Shon's laughter behind him. After going through some thirty pieces of paper Kimimaro stopped to catch his breath.

He glanced over to the prisoner, "Why am I doing all of this for you? I barely know you…"

"Because you know without me saying that you doing me this favor…will work to your advantage later." Shon answered evenly, "Finish up now, Kimimaro. A guard will be coming down soon."

Kimimaro completed a dozen more tags before attaching them to the bars of the cell. He gathered up the rubbish and scraps, knowing the evidence would have to be hidden. "Now what?" He asked.

"You disappear. These guards are not perceptive, so I'll rest and gather my chakra." Shon told him, taking a seat again, "You've done well, Kimimaro. Rest assured I will make good on my promise to you."

"Should I come back tomorrow?"

He shook his head, "No. Tomorrow you find a place to hide. Someone very powerful will be coming here to destroy this place."

The boy's mouth hung open, stunned, "Destroyed? How could you know?"

"How could I not?" Shon retorted, "You will be spared _only _if you do as I say. Now get going!"

Kimimaro made himself scarce.


	5. Crème de la crème

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews, they gave me such a tingly feeling! I am glad that this story is appreciated and I am deeply grateful to you, good readers. Now Mist will flex more of its abundant muscle._

* * *

In his humble opinion, the squadron was a complete embarrassment. Zabuza glanced around at his cohorts, considering it a typical assemblage of the Mizukage. In summary, the group was more or less an overreaction to the Kaguya clan.

There were too many people, with one division assigned to support Utakata, and the other to…well… _'Fuck shit up, but he's so goddamn politically correct he said __**coordinate.' **_He kind of wanted to vomit at the sentiment. Two divisions were equivalent to way too many meat sacks and not enough talent. If the Swords had been assigned to this the jinchuriki's presence would not even be necessary.

And yet Kamisori was also present. He had hoped he could have gotten Higashikuni pulled from the front lines to join the assault, but Kyonjin had mangled the idea and squealed like a girl at the thought: _"Not Abe-sama! Hohoho, not a chance! He stays where he is!" _

So Zabuza stared at the former swordsman he was stuck with, a recurrent pacifist. White hair, lavish clothing, and **no **sword. _'Dipshit. Is he in some kind of denial?' _He could not begin trying to understand why Kamisori was not carrying Nuibari. The guy had been a goddamn _surgeon _with the Longsword, reorganizing people's _faces_, for fuck's sake. There he stood, a former paladin of the swords, now the boring absconder.

Also with the group he saw Hayago, who was a typical installment. He was good at guiding the jinchuriki in Mist, at least verbally, so he was with Utakata's half. Also with Utakata was the Chief medic, who was vested in armor and a grimace. While Zabuza did not see her entirely essential she certainly looked the part.

Most of the jounin were stationed with the Six-Tail's jinchuriki, whose expression could not have been any plainer. He was a tall, gangly, black-haired teen in a flak vest. Occasionally he tapped the scrolls in his belt with a pipe, as if mulling over strategies in his head. It was a well known fact that Utakata was not even remotely bloodthirsty, and Zabuza knew the Mizukage had given him several pep talks about "expectations."

In all honesty, Zabuza did not know how strong the jinchuriki was. He frankly didn't _care _as long as he got to perform the majority of the butchering before the final blow was dealt.

The squadron was approaching the compound by way of a deserted mountain path. They had been warned to stay out of the woodland for as long as possible. Covering considerable ground before engaging in battle was key. A high stone ledge provided an optimal view of the clan homestead down in the valley below. Hayago had the group halt before giving hushed orders to both divisions.

"Shon will provide us with a signal when it is time for Utakata to strike," Hayago explained, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "He must be guarded well. Many of his techniques will not work against the Kaguya."

The team leader wrapped it up by giving orders to specific ninja, "Kamisori, I need you and your division to clear a route to the center of the compound. Zabuza and Tsurugi will be your forerunners."

Zabuza glanced to Tsurugi, an older member of the Anbu. He was wise as well as powerful tolerable. Tsurugi seemed to have the same opinion of the swordsman.

Hayago turned to the Chief Medic, "Kuina, you must stay with Utakata at all times. If things get out of control…"

She nodded, her eyes bright. A look of confusion crossed Kamisori's face, and it was then Zabuza could connect the dots. _'He's after the medic, huh? Predictable.' _The loyalist lowered his eyes pensively, frustrated by the organization of the groups.

"We'll be moving out shortly," Hayago concluded, "Look alive."

* * *

"Is this true, Kimimaro?"

Kimimaro stared blankly at the other boy. He was small and could easily be shredded. He was _not _going to get away with this. Kimimaro looked back to the superior, "Yes, it is true."

The elder Kaguya scowled, "Really? So Mitsuna here is correct about you going to the prison hold without orders?"

Mitsuna dared take a peek at Kimimaro from behind the superior. Absolute hatred was clear on the older boy's face. It communicated the consequence well: _Once I get out of this I am going to kill you. _Mitsuna shrunk back, trembling, wishing his sweater could swallow him up until he was unrecognizable. Kimimaro _had _killed other children before, but this time it would be personal.

"Yes, I went to the prison hold without orders."

Mitsuna squeezed his eyes shut.

"Tell me why you went there." The man said gruffly, though he already had his suspicions.

For a moment Kimimaro weighed his options. There was no way to be sure what the penalty would be for his actions. Most likely severe, he was sure, but superior Kecho-san was the only one interrogating him. If only he had been informed, then perhaps there was a chance to…

"Tell me, boy!" Kecho roared.

He gave the man an even look, "I went to the barracks to speak to Shon-sama."

The silence was very brief. Kecho balked before he murmured, "**Who **were you speaking to?"

"Shon-sama."

"That man is not worthy of such a title!" Kecho hollered, then turning to Mitsuna, "You! Get back to your post immediately!"

Mitsuna scurried away without looking back.

"I can imagine what you and Shon were talking about." Kecho wore a sick smirk, "Unfortunately, Kimimaro, you've been poisoned by his lies and you are no longer fit to be a member of this clan." A bone knife began to slip out of the skin of Kecho's forearm.

"Huh. You wouldn't dare." Kimimaro scoffed, remembering what Shon had said, "I am too strong and valuable to be killed."

"Is that so?"

"If you killed me on a whim it will not be very popular with the rest of the clan." The boy reasoned, "Mitsuna is your only witness," He smirked, "And that will not be considered reliable."

Kecho was seething, "Well if you are so incredibly _valuable _to this clan, then you'll be valuable locked up, you mouthy scrap!" He seized Kimimaro roughly by the shoulder, and the boy struggled for a moment before cooperating.

He knew he would be able to kill Kecho on his own, the man was not nearly as strong or as fast as he was. However they were out in the open, and too many eyes would be on them. To bystanders, this just looked like an ordinary punishment in which an elder dragged away another hapless youngster. In spite of the situation, Kimimaro was being towed to one of the safest places he could think of.

Shon was a bit surprised to see Kimimaro escorted into the cell next to his own. He pressed his face against the bars, concerned, "Really, Kecho? What did he do?"

"Like you don't fucking know!" Kecho screeched back, throwing Kimimaro bodily into the hold. He slammed the bars in place before shouting at the guard, "This one is not to be let out under any circumstances! Traitors will stand with traitors!"

The guard locked the cell as Kecho stormed off. He gave Kimimaro a quizzical look, shrugged, and then returned to his seat.

Kimimaro leaned against the wall, wondering if it was better to sit or stand. _'I will learn eventually because I will be in here for a very long time…' _But being here was better than being out _there. _Even locked up Shon had claimed to be free, and Kimimaro at last understood what he had meant.

"Didn't you listen to a word I said to you?" Shon groaned, plainly annoyed.

"Of course I did."

"Well you _didn't. _You are supposed to be hiding so you can be spared from the destruction of this compound." Shon reminded him, "And what do you do? You get yourself locked up. I don't know what to make of you, Kimimaro."

Kimimaro chose to sit down. "It was never my intention." He admitted.

The guard jumped up from his chair, alerted to the danger, "What destruction? Is this some kind of ?"

Shon's head snapped toward the direction of the guard's voice. He raised his hand, firing tiny bone projectiles from the tips of his fingers. Several hit the guard in the chest, one in the face, and the last planted squarely in his forehead. The man swooned for a moment, dying, and then tripped over his own seat before hitting the floor.

Kimimaro blinked, startled.

Shon brushed off his pants and stood. He shook the dust off of his haori and adjusted it, glancing around the enclosed space. "Hm, it seems now is as good a time as any to get started…" He rolled his wrists to warm up, "If you would please be patient for a moment, Kimimaro, we will be out of here shortly…"

Slowly the boy stood, sensing the swift gathering of chakra in the cell adjacent to his own. Kimimaro backed up towards the opposite wall, wondering if he could get a better look at Shon. All he did see was the formidable bone drill protruding from Shon's knee swing forward like a battering ram ransacking the bars of the cell. The crunching sound of bone, wood, and stone was awful, but as Shon had promised he had torn himself free.

He dusted his hands off, strolling up to Kimimaro's cell. "You should be aware this day will be unlike anything you've experienced so far. If you plan to survive with all of your faculties intact you will do exactly as I say _exactly_, understood?" Shon warned him, "Any foolish choices you make are not my burden."

Kimimaro nodded, "I understand, Shon-sama."

Shon sighed, slashing at the lock with a bone blade, splitting it clean in half. The cell swung open tiredly. Kimimaro produced his own radial bone knife and followed Shon down the echoing corridor. His heart began hammering with an anticipation he had never known before.

He knew the Kaguya compound was about to be attacked. Somehow Kimimaro felt he had conspired for it to happen as well, on some level. If the end of the Kaguya clan meant he could finally see what was waiting on the _other _side, then he would happily help bring that end.

* * *

Kamisori's group remained at the edge of the tree line. He could not help but watch as Utakata's group skirted the perimeter unnoticed. His eyes stayed on Kuina's retreating form until the forest had dissolved all traces of her. Why had Hayago put her with the jinchuriki's group? _'Surely Utakata is well protected. Her skills would be better suited to my group…' _Not to mention he gave a very big damn about the risks his girlfriend would be taking.

When Kyonjin had assigned them to the same mission, Kamisori had looked forward to it. It was long overdue and he felt that they had synced a fair number of techniques. What he did not account for was the possibility of separation, injury, capture, death, or for that matter, any type of harm that could befall the Chief Medic.

Could she defend herself? Yes. Had she told him a thousand times that she would be fine? Yes again. Yet it did not change the fact he wanted to fatally damage any person who threatened her.

"Yuki-san?"

Kamisori glanced to Tsurugi; snapped out of his brooding.

"Our division has successfully saturated the air with chakra. Perhaps now you could provide the second half of the technique?"

Ah, it would not be prudent to forget that they were setting up for battle. The technique was designed to support and strengthen Utakata's _Shabondama (Soap Bubble) _ability, which the Kaguya would otherwise be impervious to.

'_How cruel. A Kaguya can produce a wide variety of sharp objects, and yet they will not be able to pop any of Utakata's bubbles.' _It was an old trick that the enemy would not foresee or be able to counter, _'At least until he spends all of our combined chakra…'_

Kamisori half-thinkingly made hand signs, prompting rainfall. He blinked hard, focusing. It was crucial to make the drizzle appear innocuous, because the Kaguya were always on the lookout for suspicious weather phenomena. After he gave the signal, the melee division began a silent approach.

'_Good. Zabuza laid down a layer of mist...' _And it was convincing too. Not thick at the moment, but when it came time to attack, it would condense and the enemy would be blinded. Kamisori came to stand beside the younger swordsman, glad that he could plan ahead.

Zabuza hefted his blade in anticipation. The first building of the compound was a few meters away, and would provide decent cover before the haze set in. The division spread out into designated formations. The grounds were quiet. It was too easy. The Kaguya had not even barked at the poor weather, which was usually an indication of their lowered guard.

Kamisori considered investigating the matter further and rounded the corner of the building. Seated on an overturned crate sat a very small, weeping Kaguya. The boy wiped at his eyes before looking up, and then gaped stupidly at Kamisori. A gradual, shrill scream escaped the child's open mouth.

"Move out!" Kamisori ordered. He seized the boy by his sweater and tossed him towards the back of the building, where the rest of the division could silence him.

* * *

Utakata blew a decent bubble with his pipe, gesturing for Kuina to test it. She prodded it with a kunai, pleased that it resisted the sharp edge.

"Now _that _is quality rain." She smiled at the young man, "We should thank Kamisori's unit later."

Utakata also smiled, nodding, "Typically rain is used to damage my jutsu, not enhance it. I could get used to this!"

A few jounin perched beside them in the canopy also took a moment to admire the miraculous bubbles. Hayago waved two fingers towards the ground, and the group descended from the treetops. A distant, high-pitched scream traveled across the misty estate. The shinobi exchanged glances before additional cries followed, and members of the Kaguya clan began scrambling out of buildings.

"This is it," Hayago announced, "Division One has been detected, so it's up to us to catch the enemy from the opposite side and keep them on the grounds."

Kuina surveyed the vast lawns surrounding the compound. If any of the Kaguya made it into the encompassing forest it would be impossible to catch them. As if Utakata had read her mind, he produced a fresh swarm of bubbles that walled the entire perimeter. Any stragglers trying to escape would be absorbed into a bubble and suffocated with poison gas.

Once the cautionary trap was set Division Two entered the fog; poised for an ambush.

* * *

"And that screaming tells us that we are right on schedule." Shon reported, "Now make sure you look like you are ready to fight some Mist ninja you ought to look the part."

Kimimaro took a moment to make an aggressive face. It was close to the expression of a person about to sneeze.

Shon sighed, "Okay, that'll do. Let's hurry along now."

Outside of the barracks a raucous battle awaited them. Mist ninja had bared down on the Kaguya as they came out into the open, clashing furiously. Kimimaro let the spike of adrenalin give him speed as he closely followed Shon. The combatants did not appear to notice the two retreating Kaguya.

Kimimaro briefly wondered if any of the Mist ninja would be able to recognize Shon as an ally during battle.

In a blink they had crossed the grounds to the main house. A few women hesitated at its entrance while others charged ahead to join the fighting. Shon brushed past them with Kimimaro in tow.

"Before I signal Mist," Shon explained on the way, "It would be in our best interest to retrieve some valuables that are here."

"They're going to destroy the Main House?" Kimimaro did not quite follow.

Shon stopped outside of a heavy hardwood door and looked at the boy. "Child…when I say that Mist is going to destroy this compound, I mean this place will be positively _smashed _to bits. They have with them a particularly dangerous jinchuriki…"

"A…jinchuriki…?"

"I'll explain later…" Shon shoved the door roughly. The storage room was disheveled and poorly organized. Shon swept piles of books and papers aside, revealing a wooden chest, and tore the cover off with a bone-tool strike.

Inside were three unassuming scrolls which Kimimaro deduced were the "valuables" Shon sought. The man stashed the scrolls into his shirt before turning on his heel, "We are making good time, aren't we?"

Two chunin-level Kaguya stopped outside the door, perplexed, and then noticed Shon stepping gingerly over piles of books. One of them howled angrily and charged into the small space. Shon struggled to get proper footing as he parried the boy's strikes. His companion also rushed in, further crowding the closet.

Kimimaro ducked beneath the teen's clumsy blade swipes. He slapped the chunin's wrist to disarm him, and before he could produce a new bone weapon Kimimaro spun away. He plunged his radial knife into the older boy's hand, and when that did nothing he struck again for the throat. The second strike was more effective. The teen stumbled, seriously injured, but tripped Kimimaro as he went down.

Slipping on loose pages on the floor, Kimimaro managed to hop to his feet and was promptly kicked in the side of the head. The other chunin had intended to hit Shon. Kimimaro collapsed again, seeing stars, and Shon finally managed to incapacitate the other teen.

Kimimaro's green eyes focused on three images of Shon's face hovering above him. The man looked mildly amused, "Are you alright down there?"

"Yes."

"Up you get then!" Shon hoisted the boy by the collar of his shirt, up and over the bodies of the chunin. He was set on his feet again in the empty hallway.

Shon took a gas lamp hanging in the corridor and tossed it into the storage room. Books and documents quickly ignited. Kimimaro said nothing as Shon continued on, pulling lamps down so the building would burn. They moved swiftly down each hallway as smoke began fill the air.

"Listen to me: avoid fighting anyone if you can you must conserve energy." Shon advised the boy, "You need to keep up with me once we leave the grounds…and don't go near any Mist ninja if you can help it…"

"I understand."

Mist ninja had pushed the majority of the Kaguya clan towards the center of the estate. The dense fog had severely limited visibility. Up close, however, Kimimaro grimaced at the odd sprays and streaks of blood staining walls at unimaginable angles. They were fortunate to avoid "friendly fire" and skirt around a cadet house past Mist's forces. Shon knocked a few unsuspecting shinobi out of the way before diving back into the haze.

From what little Kimimaro _could _see, it looked like children were fighting as well. Only a few of them were left standing and they were hideously outnumbered by adult Mist nin.

They stopped at the house adjacent to the centermost building. Several confused Kaguya lashed out, no longer aware of who they were attacking. Kimimaro agilely evaded the adults and refrained from counterattacking as Shon had said.

Shon's graceful taijutsu distinguished him from their fellow Kaguya. Two attacked with bone weapons and Shon stepped between them, redirecting both strikes into one another. He weaved away like a breeze into the third, slashing the woman's throat as Kimimaro had thought to do earlier. It was important to exploit the few weaknesses the Kaguya had. With the threat neutralized, Shon glanced around and then gestured for Kimimaro to follow.

They scaled the building up to the tiled roof. The height provided a better view over the blanket of mist, and it was then Kimimaro could see two squadrons had divided and caught members of the Kaguya in a pincer movement. They were being held in that position by their eagerness to fight, and it was that belligerence, Kimimaro was sure, that the Mist ninja were counting on.

A cylindrical bone protruded from Shon's arm and he drew it out slowly. Kimimaro could see extra care was taken to produce the tool because it was hollow. He knew it was not uncommon for Kaguya to create sound-makers to signal comrades. Shon played four extended notes that hooted with surprising clarity over the grounds. After a pause he played them again.

Stillness hung over the sprawling lawns for a moment. Shon tucked the flute into his belt, his signal sent, and jumped down from the rooftop with his small companion. He was smiling slightly, "That takes care of our business here." Shon assured him, "We'll be on our way now."

"That's a relief." Kimimaro admitted.

They covered a few meters before spotting a lone Kaguya in the fog who had not been corralled into Mist's trap. Shon froze.

Kimimaro felt the shift in his attitude immediately. His calm demeanor was instantly replaced with a spike of aggression. Shon had hardly displayed any type of rage since Kimimaro had first encountered him. The sight of this one man, strangely, had triggered an intense feeling that even Kimimaro was wary of.

"We should go…" Kimimaro chirped, but Shon was not listening.

He watched in alarm as Shon charged without a word, while the man's guard was down. The target turned to see his attacker just a moment before Shon struck with an immense, bone-reinforced punch. Kimimaro caught a glimpse of the man's face, who he recognized to be a superior named Toyama. He flew backwards into a water container that blew apart with the force of the impact. Shon rushed again, intent on finishing what he started.

'_He already gave the signal…if we stay any longer we'll be in danger.' _Kimimaro watched Shon's assault, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop him. He wondered if he would benefit from trying to escape on his own. _'But I have no idea where I am supposed to go…' _Though it seemed like a terrible idea, he stood in wait, hoping Shon would wrap things up quickly.

Toyama somehow was able to regroup, and with a ferocity that nearly matched Shon's, countered with a bone broadsword. They screamed unintelligibly at each other, slashing with such ruthless abandon that Kimimaro was sure their hatred went far beyond any rivalry that was typical within the Kaguya. Defensive bone spikes stuck out from the combatants at various points on their bodies, absorbing physical blows. Kimimaro observed intently.

Shon's opponent landed a sword strike near the nape of his exposed neck, and Kimimaro could not tell what kind of damage it would cause. Shon fought on, building speed on the slick grass, forcing Toyama to fight defensively. When his enemy was backed against another building, Shon took action. Kimimaro watched him summon from the curious seal on his arm. It was the sword he had called Kabutowari. Shon leapt high.

Toyama raised his arms, lined with bone spikes, hoping to block. Shon descended on him with the cutting edge of the axe-blade, superbly aimed, and tore down with the hammer's strike. It split Toyama's arms like toothpicks, slicing down into the crown of his head with a metallic ring. The weapon "Helm-splitter" has been aptly named.

The man crumpled over into a heap and Shon stood over him; a half of Kabutowari in each hand. He caught his breath before storing away his weapon. He touched the wound on his neck inquisitively but did not make a fuss over it. After a few beats he came back to his senses and looked toward Kimimaro, "I apologize…I…could not leave knowing that he would have escaped."

"That's alright."

A sudden burst of wind, saturated with chakra, blew apart the mist cover. The ground was trembling with energy and Kimimaro's eyes went wide he had never experienced such a tremendous surge of power.

"We've lingered a bit too long, I see…" Shon took off like a shot, "Hurry!"

He kept pace with Shon, headed for the tree line at the border of the estate. Ahead a wall of bubbles blocked their exit, and Kimimaro hurled several bone projectiles in an effort to clear the way. His attack bounced off the wall futilely and Shon held out a hand, "No…you don't want to disturb them. I'll take care of it."

He drew out his flute again, trilling a piercing note that popped the majority of bubbles within range. It made sense, Kimimaro thought, that Shon would think of a way out when other Kaguya could not. He had been working alongside Mist long enough to know what to expect during an attack. They raced ahead into the forest.

Behind them the last of the Kaguya awaited the coup de grâce.

* * *

Four ghastly woodwind notes sounded over the battlefield. Utakata stopped to look toward his squadron for confirmation before the notes played again. That was the signal they had been told to wait for. Mist shinobi changed their formation, putting distance between themselves and Utakata. They lined up along the outskirts of the estate to prevent any of the clansmen from leaving.

Kuina hesitated, turning back to her friend, "If you need me I'll be close by, Utakata!"

"I know." He nodded and watched her retreat along with their comrades. Some of the Kaguya gave chase to the Mist ninja while others directed their attention towards him.

A young Kaguya charged as he gathered chakra, and Utakata did not put much effort into avoiding the attack. Abrasive energy coiled around him into a chakra cloak, rapidly growing as he released the Rokubi's power. The demon's towering form began to take shape and the youngster ended his assault, looking to take cover.

The fog cover dissolved. Out in the open field a pale giant began to rise in a storm of radiant energy. The Kaguya below quailed, realizing how they had been cornered. The slug beast bellowed as it swung a colossal tail down on them.

Zabuza stood at the periphery of the Kaguya estate, watching with mild fascination as the biju methodically pulverized each building. Occupants were crushed above and below ground, and the cacophony of screams was at its peak. He did wonder how much of the onslaught Utakata was conscious for and how much was the beast's whim. Either way, no Mist ninja was fool enough to get close to the jinchuriki at the moment.

'_Look at these assholes…as if they didn't expect something like this could happen.' _Zabuza was not impressed with the Kaguya's escape plan, which was exactly what Hayago predicted it would be. Those that evaded Utakata had all bolted for the surrounding forest. Mist ninja allowed them to pass by as they raced headlong in explosive traps and bubbles that absorbed them into clouds of suffocating gas. Those that turned back to avoid the mayhem were easily filleted by patient Mist shinobi.

Kaguya scattered for their lives beneath the Rokubi as it obliterated its surroundings.

Zabuza acknowledged that it was an incredible power to wield, though he was no admirer of the "hoarding" of jinchuriki practiced by the Hidden Villages. _'It's only an advantage until another village trumps your tailed beast somehow. These people need to get a life and focus on the shinobi they have__ not these kids they outfit with monsters.' _He was of the opinion that jinchuriki were super-efficient at getting themselves kidnapped and killed.

Oddly, Utakata was doing quite well so far. Victory appeared to be imminent. Without much warning, however, a trio of elder Kaguya broke apart from the rest of the group and scaled the last tall building that was intact. Two of them managed to plunge their bone knives into the back of the Rokubi, preparing what Zabuza instinctively recognized as a countersealing method.

He rushed ahead and Kamisori, who was also alerted to the hazard, was right at his heels. Several other Mist ninja returned to the battlefield, hoping to stop the plan from backfiring.

The third Kaguya, the eldest and one of the rebel leaders, had anchored a large scroll onto the Rokubi's back with bone needles. The elaborate seal on the parchment began to burn into the flesh of the beast and it screeched in response. Zabuza descended, flinging the Kaguya general from his perch with the back of the Seversword. The Rokubi's screams intensified as the battle resumed on its slime-coated back.

* * *

Kimimaro's breathing was erratic as he raced through the woodland, trying to keep Shon within his sight. The terrible power emanating from the estate could still be felt though they had covered a fair distance. The forest floor was a mess of logs and bramble, and Shon navigated it almost effortlessly. Kimimaro struggled, though to his credit he was young and terrified.

It had been generous of Shon to recommend that he save his energy, Kimimaro thought. The man possessed remarkable stamina if he could fight and flee without assistance. _'One day I will be strong like that. I will not doubt my ability.' _Shon's decorated haori jacket flapped wildly behind him as he ran. As far as Kimimaro could tell, this man was the best role model he had encountered bar none.

Abruptly, Shon leapt up into the treetops, deciding the branches would be less of a hassle. Sweat trickled down Kimimaro's brow. He was not accustomed to such strenuous travel. Focusing his chakra as best he could he leapt, but only reached a mid-level branch. It was isolated and the move cost him the momentum he had built up. Shon continued ahead but the boy refused to show weakness.

He jumped down to the ground again, moving twice as fast, and dedicated himself fully to his next leap. Kimimaro was luckier the second time he caught a high branch that gave him access to the rest of the emerging canopy. He caught up to Shon, though his spindly, eight-year-old legs ached horribly.

He felt less afraid of the swirling energy that was behind them. If Shon was confident that they had escaped, then he ought to believe it. Kimimaro put more spring into his leaps, coming up alongside the swordsman.

"Why did you kill Toyama-san?" Kimimaro asked, ending the silence.

Shon glanced sidelong to the boy with an anguished expression, "He ruined my life and took away what was most important to me."

Kimimaro's eyes reflected true sympathy.

"Because nothing was important to Toyama I took his life instead." Shon concluded, "Now put it out of your mind, child. It is entirely in the past and that is where pain should stay."

* * *

The trio of Kaguya frantically attempted a sealing method as Mist ninja pounced. Immediately after Zabuza had hurled the general aside the Rokubi bucked wildly. Its roars of pain made it clear that while the jutsu was incomplete, the Kaguya had unnerved it.

The two Kaguya subordinates were flung from the beast's back. Tsurugi caught one of them in mid-air, planting his elbow solidly into the gaping mouth of his enemy. The man crumpled, bones surfacing from his skin in defense, but by then a dozen Mist ninja had fired water techniques at him.

His ally had not gotten very far either before he too was ganged up on. He plunged his bones knives into the chest of an unprepared Mist shinobi and ducked away, realizing he was completely surrounded. He called to the general for help but received no response. Hayago rushed the young Kaguya, goring his eyes out with his claw gauntlet. The man screamed and was quickly mangled by Hayago's squadron.

The general, though old, had been fast enough to stab Zabuza several times with a bone spear. It was difficult enough as it was to get near the general, but his giant blade was consistently blocked by the bone spikes extending from his foe's body. He was too mobile and too desperate to get hit. _'Too bad he's on his own.' _Zabuza glanced out of the corner of his eye, pleased that Kamisori had come up from behind the general.

His fellow swordsman completed hand signs before the general was able to turn around. Kamisori exhaled a breathe that struck the last Kaguya with a flurry of icy pins. They crystallized on the general's skin, "Fucking **Yuki **traitor !" and then sunk in, covering him and freezing him into a block.

Zabuza swung his blade in a proud arc, slicing the ice statue down the middle. The shattering smash was music to his ears. The two did not have time to congratulate one another a huge tentacle crashed down beside them, knocking them back with great force. They rolled several times before skidding to a halt, dizzy, realizing they were still too close for comfort.

Staggering to his feet Zabuza lifted the Seversword again, glaring up at the beast. "He can cut that the fuck _out_! They're all finished right? Someone call that slug off already!" He looked to Kamisori, who was also trying to get his bearings, then to Hayago who had escorted his squadrons a safe distance away. He caught Hayago's eye and then bellowed, "**Are you quite finished?**"

Hayago looked troubled. He and the other Mist shinobi crossed the ransacked grounds to where Zabuza and Kamisori had landed. Hayago reported on the situation, "Utakata is not responsive whatever seal was used is irritating the Six-Tails…and he'll be lucky to get control back on his own "

"Do you know what kind of hell Kyonjin is going to give us if you don't get **that**," Zabuza gestured to the flailing demon that was spewing some kind of fluid, "Under control? This about the goddamn time to pull a plan out of your ass!"

Hayago scowled, "I can see why you charm the Mizukage so, Zabuza. In fact there **is **a plan underway at this very moment…"

Kamisori and Zabuza exchanged a perplexed look. Hayago turned his attention back to the Rokubi. It was only then they noticed that all but one Mist shinobi had retreated.

Kuina was darting beneath the biju's tails, trying to find a sufficient blind spot.

Zabuza could see the blood run out of Kamisori's face, horrified at what he was seeing. He made a start to run to her but Hayago had caught him, bracing himself against the white haired nin. Kamisori's eyes were furious slits and he thrashed, trying to get loose, "What are you ? Let **go **of me! Don't you !"

"I can't! I have to insist you wait here as we do!"

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Kamisori screamed, breaking free but was quickly restrained by Hayago's backup, "How can **she **be your plan? She's !"

"Enough!" Hayago was face to face with the distraught nin, "Do you really believe Kuina would be out there if she was not absolutely certain she could do something about this?"

He stopped struggling, though he was still confounded that they would let the Chief Medic confront the Rokubi. Zabuza stood beside him, equally as confused, but decided not to further criticize Hayago before he saw this plan in action. By that time, Kuina had already found her opening.

The slug had slowed down, tuckered out from its rampage.

Chains materialized from the young woman's body, comprised of a most blessed chakra, and they burrowed temporarily underground before surfacing as endless, shimmering links. They wrapped securely around the Rokubi, which resisted with a deafening cry. Kuina held tight; her face strained in concentration. Remarkably, it took very little physical effort to hold the beast back.

Zabuza looked to Kamisori again, whose mouth hung open in disbelief.

The beast whined, somewhat quelled by the bonds holding it. Kuina made brief hand signs, "Soothing Spell!" before pulling back on her chains, and a wave of neutral energy swept over the Rokubi. It made a rapid chirping sound before it began to shrink. With a heavy breath Kuina raised her hands, calling her chakra chains back. They returned with gentle chiming, disappearing into her back and forearms.

The squadrons cheered, although they were uncertain what she had done.

The fussing giant relinquished control to its host. Its body faded into a tailed chakra cloak, and within moments it receded and revealed the young jinchuriki. He stumbled and fell at about the same time Kuina did. They laid sprawled on the grass, both wearing expressions of great relief. If Kuina was not mistaken, a handful of Kaguya had been able to escape. The mission was for the most part a success.

"Thank you…" Utakata said, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Kuina wiped her face, tasting dirt. She managed a smile, "No problem, Utakata."

Kamisori had promptly appeared beside Kuina and gathered her into his arms. She felt slightly smothered against his chest, but was otherwise satisfied with his protective reaction. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"I just got scooped up by a handsome man," She grinned, "I've never been better."

He was smirking. His hand slid just a bit lower down her thigh.

Zabuza stood contemplatively beside Hayago. They watched Kamisori collect Kuina and Utakata wobble valiantly to his feet. Clearly everyone with the exception of Hayago was out-of-the-loop in terms of Kuina's purpose in Division Two. Her ability, whatever it was, was not native to the Water Country. After a long silence he stared suspiciously at Hayago.

"There's a reason why she answers directly to Mizukage, I take it?" Zabuza asked pointedly.

"There was…nothing I could do about it." Hayago replied, "Once Kyonjin found out about her powers there was nothing her sensei or I could say to him…she'll be living under his thumb for the rest of her life."

* * *

_Note: I apologize for the edit, many things needed to get fixed. Oh boy, I have just started attending a new university. What a workload. I will update whenever possible…and there should be a new chapter of Harbinger coming soon. Thanks everyone!_


	6. Rites of Passage

_A/N: Hello again readers! I have found this story is in part inspired by the music of Guitar (Michael Lückner) as well as the dearly departed Jun Seba (DJ Nujabes). Please enjoy._

* * *

Kimimaro made a soft sound as he stirred. The rising sun was pricking at his eyelids, taunting him back to consciousness. He laid flat on his back on the ground and could hardly shift his aching body. Despite all of his discomfort, something cool was pressed against his brow.

Light accentuated Shon's face, illuminating his bob of white hair. He sat beside Kimimaro, pressing a damp cloth to the boy's forehead. Kimimaro held still, his eyes flickering up towards the man in an attempt to understand the state of affairs.

Shon looked down at him with half of a smile, "You wore yourself down, child. Rest and you'll improve in no time."

"Why are you kind?" Kimimaro asked with a rasp. So far it did not make sense. Anyone who had ever kept him close or treated him somewhat well in the past had been using him for something. Shon had not asked for anything yet. It was almost as if he _wanted_ to help people.

The man looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "Well, Kimimaro…I suppose I decided that being kind was better than my alternatives."

Kimimaro stared up at Shon, considering the answer. He cleared his throat before sitting up, and then held the cloth to his brow himself.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes."

"You should, after all, today is your first day of freedom." Shon told him. He stood and watched the sun continue to rise over the grassy hills.

They had escaped the Kaguya compound, Kimimaro noted. So much would change now that he was independent of the clan's demands. He also knew with certainty that he could not survive for very long without Shon's guidance. It was in his best interest to stay with Shon for as long as possible.

When his dizziness passed Kimimaro returned the cloth. Shon rang it out before storing it in a side pouch. They took a drink of water before Shon commenced with the trek through the countryside.

Wildflowers of deep violets and pale pinks were dotted with dew. The light of the morning sun and the silence of the hills offered a calm the young boy had never experienced before.

The blooms were captivating, and his eyes absorbed the image as the symbol of the first day of the rest of his life. He and Shon stopped on a hilltop in the midst of nature.

'_I have a future now. It's mine because I took the chance.' _The boy thought, realizing how precious it was to lead his own life. It was something he would struggle to protect. One other thing he had learned from Shon was that being a nonconformist often meant one would clash with others.

"Kimimaro, you are remarkably skilled for your age." Shon told him, resting a hand on his shoulder, "But you are much too reckless with your power. It is time for you to hone your abilities."

"I was trained at the-"

"No. You have not been trained at all."

The boy pouted, quite frustrated. He felt as though he either did not understand or Shon was being condescending towards him.

"You know of chakra, ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu; yes?" Shon asked.

"I do." Kimimaro answered firmly.

"There is more to know. Our clan never told you this because they themselves were ignorant. You need to know the history of shinobi, how they interact with one another…how they interact with nature. Every technique you will ever learn is based on the same principles; teachings that are ancient and most of which have been forgotten."

The boy relaxed a bit, "And…you know of these things?"

"I know enough about them." Shon said, "This knowledge was passed down to me, and I benefitted from it. Yet be aware that I have expectations of you. You must be disciplined: do not take your abilities for granted. Your power is not meant for selfish gain, and you need to cooperate with others."

"I don't know anyone else."

"You will in time."

Shon took a few steps away from Kimimaro.

"You possess the Shikotsumyaku, and so your greatest strength will be your taijutsu." Shon stated. "We will focus on hand-to-hand combat first because it comes naturally to you. I shall teach you ninjutsu and genjutsu later on."

"So this means…that I will be staying with you?"

The man nodded, "Oh yes; likely until your adulthood. Forgive me, but someone as young and impressionable as you really can't be trusted on your own."

"Oh."

"Now," Shon took a relaxed stance, "Show me what you can do."

Kimimaro looked at the man for a moment. There was no reason to hesitate. He rushed ahead, half as tall as Shon, and lashed out with whirlwind kicks that grazed past the swordsman's nose. For a long while Shon kept up with blocking Kimimaro's attacks.

Kimimaro made use of the terrain, aiming high with every punch and kick, forcing Shon to back down the hill. The sun had fully risen before Shon decided to go on the offensive.

The man's punches were calculated, and nearly all of them connected with Kimimaro. The boy grunted with effort, searching for patterns, and soon was able to block or evade Shon's strikes.

It did not matter that Kimimaro was compact and fast; Shon used sweep kicks and trips to slow him down. In the past, his enemies had underestimated fighting a child with the Shikotsumyaku, but Kimimaro understood that Shon was no such fool. He knew exactly how to deal with a young Kaguya.

Although Kimimaro had been able to manipulate Shon down the slopes during the training session, he had been incapable of causing any damage. Even utilizing his blood limit was a useless effort. Shon countered him in silence, avoiding bone-dagger strikes and projectiles without using any of his own.

After a long while Shon asked Kimimaro to stop. The boy bent over, hair tousled, and attempted to catch his breath.

"That was quite good, Kimimaro."

The boy looked up at the man incredulously. He felt pathetically weak.

"Hm? You disagree?" Shon wondered, then added, "Tie your hair up, child, you're a mess."

Kimimaro stood up straight, taken aback. He said nothing as he reached into his hip pouch and drew out two hair ties. The boy tied up the loose white strands unevenly before turning to Shon expectantly. Shon sighed.

"I can see you have your own sense of _dance _already, and it is quite effective." Shon complimented, "Every Kaguya has a unique style, although most are not very elegant."

"Your dance is the strongest." Kimimaro admitted.

"Ah…well…" Shon chuckled, "It won't be forever."

They both took another drink of water before continuing to spar. Kimimaro found Shon to be a very patient, encouraging teacher. The few teachers he had at the Kaguya compound hardly mentioned any concepts or advised him half as well as Shon did.

Kimimaro fought with tenacity but was unable to land a successful hit on Shon. He _was_ able to force Shon in the directions he wanted, and he was commended for it.

"Think about it," Shon said, "You may be up against a more powerful enemy, or you yourself may be injured or at a disadvantage…and your attacks may seem harmless…but you can lead an enemy without them realizing it. Use your wit when your strength is unreliable; guide them into a trap."

The boy heeded the advice, but knew there was no such trap he could use at the time. He continued to fight, driving Shon to the flat road beneath the hills. Shon coached him to trust his instincts. Even after Kimimaro took several hits, some which could have been crippling, Shon did not criticize him. He reminded Kimimaro that it was only an evaluation.

"If you are committed to learning then you'll be learning all of your life, even if you're old like me…" Shon said, "That is the true strength of a shinobi."

They finished after midday. Kimimaro had not needed much time to rest before he and Shon resumed their journey. Along the path Shon stopped a few times to point out plants and wild fruits that were edible. Kimimaro had not learned any survival techniques in all of his time with the Kaguya clan. Shon only gave him fundamental information, supposing that for the most part Kimimaro would not stray far from him.

"So where are we going?" Kimimaro asked, "The Mist Village?"

Shon looked down at him with a small frown, "No, I've already told you that we cannot go there. We would both be forced to work for the Mizukage if we wanted to save our skins. No, Kimimaro…Kirigakure is out of the question for now."

Kimimaro was quiet for a long moment. So far Shon had proven to be wise and trustworthy. He had never liked any veteran shinobi he had met, that was, with the exception of Shon. While the man was by no means perfect, Kimimaro was unquestionably sure that he wanted Shon as a mentor. He would listen and follow because he wanted to; not because he was ordered to.

"So…if we aren't going to Mist then where are we going?"

"We will lay low for a while…Mist shinobi will be looking for me in the hopes of accessing the Forbidden Jutsu of the Kaguya that I salvaged…" Shon gave a long sigh, "Oh…I just can't bring myself to hand the techniques over to Mist..."

"I don't think it would be a good idea if you did." Kimimaro agreed.

"When things calm down we'll go to a secure place. I'm confident we will be allowed to stay there." He told the boy, pointing southwest over the hills, "That is our route."

* * *

Both divisions returned to Mist with surprisingly few casualties. The squadrons stopped in the administration building to fill out reports and then were free to go home. Kyonjin summoned the shinobi he had a particular interest in.

Neither Zabuza nor Kamisori were thrilled to wait in the Mizukage's office while Hayago gave details about the mission. Kyonjin frowned in disappointment upon hearing of Utakata's loss of control of the Six-Tails, but thanked Kuina for her intervention.

Kuina stood off to the side of Kyonjin's desk, waving her hands, "Not at all, Kyonjin-sama! I knew I could get the situation under control."

"I apologize, Mizukage-sama. I did not expect them to use a counter-seal." Utakata apologized, plainly embarrassed.

Zabuza stood with his arms folded, somewhat sympathetic towards the jinchuriki, _'Yeah, like the kid could control whether or not he got ambushed by the elders of the Kaguya…but Kyonjin will probably rub this in Utakata's face for the rest of his career, that fucking prune…'_

The young swordsman did not comment out loud, but he was quite certain the jinchuriki did exactly what he was supposed to do. He saw the destruction himself. If Kyonjin demanded perfection, Zabuza thought, he ought to give up looking in the mirror. The mission was a success; so what more was there to discuss?

"What of Shon?" The Mizukage asked, pouring himself a cup of tea at his desk, "I summoned him as well, didn't I?"

"He was not with us upon our departure from the compound." Hayago informed him, perhaps a bit late, "In fact, no one in either division made contact with him during or after the battle…however he did provide us with a signal."

"Then I presume you did not recover his corpse?"

"Forgive me, sir, but there is no way for me to affirm whether he is alive or dead. The estate was burned to the ground and rendered completely unsearchable." Hayago replied, "Of the Kaguya that were accounted for he was not among them."

"How many escaped?"

"About a dozen or so, and I have two of my men tracking them as we speak."

Kyonjin took a sip of tea, his face stern, "Very good."

Zabuza and Kamisori were praised, and Kuina was handed a letter from her father as a reward. Kyonjin asked Hayago to stay and dismissed the rest of the group. Zabuza promptly departed.

In the corridor Kuina put her hand on Utakata's shoulder, "Don't let it get you down, Utakata. You were fantastic…my biggest regret is that Kyonjin-sama did not see you in action himself."

"Thank you Kuina-san, really." The teen smiled slightly, "But I know that I had made myself vulnerable and there were consequences. I do not want to disappoint the Mizukage in the future…"

Utakata continued down the hallway while Kuina stood to wait for Kamisori to catch up to her. She watched the young jinchuriki walk with slumped shoulders, not proud of what he had to tell his master Harusame.

He paused as Yagura, a fellow jinchuriki, rounded the corner. The young man wore a small smirk as he slipped past Utakata. The two had never been very friendly with each other. Utakata ducked his head to avoid the staff slung on Yagura's back.

"Hello Chief Medic." Yagura greeted Kuina, "Did the mission go well?"

"It did, although it seems as if you already know what happened." Kuina pointed out.

"Yes, I did hear a few things." Yagura confirmed, "I feel that if I had been a part of your assignment I would not have made you waste your strength."

Kamisori came to stand beside Kuina, slightly guarded around the Three-Tails container. He nodded in salutations.

Kuina sighed, hoping to defend Utakata, "Well, Yagura…it was the Mizukage's decision not to send you."

Yagura furrowed his brow; he had taken offense to the comment. He glanced to Kamisori, noting that it would be best to remain civil, _'It has been said that Yuki-san is involved with the Chief Medic…'_ Yet his bruised ego simmered.

"It was not his _best_ decision. At least this time it was not a choice he would come to regret." The jinchuriki added quietly, "When it is my time to be the Mizukage…I will have no regrets."

Kuina stared for a moment, for the first time realizing that the boy had great ambition. Kamisori was not surprised to hear Yagura's remark. It reminded him of Zabuza's sentiments about replacing Kyonjin.

Yagura excused himself before continuing on. By that time Utakata had disappeared.

Kuina sighed again. The exhaustion was mounting and Kyonjin had only afforded them one whole day of rest. After that it would be business as usual back at the hospital.

She turned to Kamisori. He also looked worn down, but returned her gaze with ardent blue eyes.

"Let's go home, Sori."

* * *

The village was blanketed with mist as the two made their way to Kuina's apartment. The air was chilled; a herald of the coming winter months.

The pair crossed town to their roost and climbed two flights of stairs in silence. The door ker-chunked behind them.

Inside of her apartment Kuina let out a long groan, so very tired that she was unsure of how she would stay on her feet. She looked at the letter from her father wistfully and then set it down on the kitchen table. _'I'm just glad that he's alright and still corresponding with me…for a while I was worried sick…'_

"That letter is from your father?" Kamisori asked, undoing the tape around his forearms.

"Yes, and it took me a very long time to get it." Kuina told him. She stood balancing herself as she removed her boots one at a time.

They moved to her bedroom to put away weapons and shoes. Kuina removed her armor and watched Kamisori undress. Weapons and belt, then gi, then undershirt, then pants… Her eyes stayed him. It was apparent that he was also in a hurry to relax. Slowly she resumed her pre-sleep processes. She became lost in her thoughts as she unclipped her senbon holsters.

"Now that the Kaguya are finished…I wonder how this will affect the fighting on the front lines." Kuina mused, "I haven't heard from Higa-sensei in ages…"

Kamisori looked at her, curious, "And by that you are referring to Abe Higashikuni?"

She nodded, down to her underwear, "Yes, that's right."

"He was your master?"

"Yes…" Kuina raised an eyebrow, "Is that really so difficult to digest?"

Her boyfriend quailed for a moment. Truthfully, it was not easy to believe. Higashikuni had been a veteran member of the Seven Swordsman, like he. Kamisori was never informed that the man had taken time to train a genin team.

"No, never mind." He said.

They stepped into the shower together with the intent of washing the battle away. Kamisori finished scrubbing quickly before handing the soap to Kuina. She lathered tiredly with her eyes half closed. She needed sleep badly. Kamisori helped her wash, aware of how weary she was.

"It's alright, Kuina, rest." He let her lean half-awake against his slick chest, "Does your ability tire you out much?"

"Mm…not as much as it used to." She said, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, "I'm almost as good as the rest of my family was."

"Your family must not be from Mist." Kamisori stated the obvious, hoping she would explain further.

"Well now it's just my father and I. Everyone else is gone." Kuina explained simply.

That was not much to go on. His thoughts sparked wildly, guessing which parent was responsible, what her lineage and origin were. _'Is her power a blood limit? There's no way to describe it…'_

Kamisori snapped out of his contemplation when he felt Kuina place her hands on his stomach. She was bracing herself, worried that she might slip and fall. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling very pleased when she nestled her head in the crook of his neck contentedly.

They stood beneath the water in silence. He was acutely aware of her body pressed against his. Try as he might he could not help but respond naturally. Kamisori opted to disregard his urge, _'She's exhausted…' _He would try his luck next time.

Her frame was so small…how had she been able to contend with a behemoth tailed-beast?

"It seems I know less about you than I thought I did." Kamisori admitted quietly. He reached for the lever and switched it off.

Kuina was lulled on her feet. She blinked hard in an attempt to wake up and said, "Why don't you visit my father with me? You can learn a lot about my family that way…and I'd like you to meet him."

He swaddled her in a towel, head-first. "I would like that too." He agreed, "Hopefully we'll have the time to arrange it."

They dried off and changed into fresh clothes. Kamisori was willing to put on tea and make something to eat but she shook her head in protest.

"No…no we should sleep. We can eat later…" She retorted with a yawn. Kuina crawled across the bed to her spot on the right, and she fussed at the covers until they came loose. She shimmied beneath them, rolled over, and then said no more.

Kamisori decided she had the right idea. He padded over to the bed and made himself comfortable. He looped his arms around her mid-section and pulled her close. The indigo locks of her hair were half dry and fanned out on her pillow. Kamisori traced fingers down her neck, shoulder and arm, and then stopped at her waist.

'_Truly amazing...' _He thought to himself. There had been a time earlier in his life when he had been completely detached. As an apprentice to the swordsman Kushimaru Kuriarare, he had felt close to no one and nothing. He was a somber young man who had only been focused on perfecting his skills with the blade Nuibari. His solitary existence had not afforded him the opportunity to befriend many people, and certainly no person like Kuina.

She was so radically different from others in Mist. Beautiful and gifted, and genuinely compassionate to others…even those who did not deserve kind words. Her personality was as foreign as her ability, and Kamisori speculated on what his odds of meeting her had been. _'That night in the bar…it was chance. It was nearly nothing. I had never seen her before…yet she had always been around.' _

He pressed his lips to the edge of her ear and paused to marvel at the soft sound of her breathing. He had not felt any kind of love since long before he began training as a shinobi. Kamisori had been ruthless as a swordsman, but he acknowledged that it was not because he wanted power or needed to kill. He was disconnected because that was what he had been told to do. _'In any other event, I would have chosen to live like this.' _Kuina had been, in a few words, a real miracle.

Maybe it made him more vulnerable, as many critics would tell him. The argument that love equated to weakness had some valid points, Kamisori acknowledged. However what his need for Kuina amounted to, he believed, made him fight harder, smarter; more keenly. She was a reason to do more. She could take care of herself. She was completely and utterly unique. His life had been enriched significantly. _'I will be selfish about this and nothing else…'_

Giving her up was out of the question, and protecting her was a new challenge he had readily met. He did not deserve her, he understood, and yet she had taken a great liking to him despite his flaws. She had accepted him for who he was, and also for who he hoped to be one day.

'_And that,' _He thought, _'is the most remarkable thing about her.'_

* * *

Kamisori drifted back to consciousness the next morning. He had heard a sound. His eyes peered at the window to his right where frost had formed on the glass. He could feel a weight on top of him.

Kuina was hovering over him on her knees; smiling with bright eyes. _'My, my…she recovered quickly…' _She bent down, pressing the full length of her body against him as she kissed his mouth, soft and playful. His eyes opened fully. He let his hands come to rest on the small of her back.

The time he had spent reflecting on his good fortune to have Kuina immediately snapped back to mind. She must have had the time to reflect as well before he awoke. He said her name softly. He closed his eyes when he felt one of her hands roam through his hair. _'Life before her…was not living at all.' _He thought to himself.

"Good morning, Sori!" She was grinning mischievously, still hovering. He was aware that over the past few days she had begun abbreviating his name. He was not particularly opposed to the affectionate nickname, but it had better not catch on with anyone else. It was alright if she called him that. He wondered where all of her energy had come from.

His voice was rough with sleep, "Good morning, Kuina."

She bent down again, pressing her lips to the side of his face. He made a low sound in his throat. This certainly had his approval.

She spoke quietly beside his ear, "Take me."

There was a brief moment in which he was aware that she had noticed his arousal against her thigh. His mismatched eyes were fixed on her face for a long moment, _'I am not imagining this.' _No morning after a perilous mission had ever been as ideal as this one, he thought. Her small, nimble hands had already worked his shirt off of his shoulders.

Kamisori's smile was shameless. It appeared that they thought alike.

He rolled over, pinning her, and laughed at how abruptly his life had become perfect.

* * *

Kamisori passed the day relaxing and horsing around with his girlfriend. Before long, much to his disappointment, it was time to resume work in the Mist Village. The next morning Kuina bade him farewell and returned to the hospital for a shift.

He took advantage of the fact that the Mizukage did not immediately require him for a mission. There was plenty of double-agent work that he had been neglecting. He dressed and set out in the morning, unnoticed as he disappeared beyond the limits of the village.

Travelling northwest from Mist the typical forest gradually gave way to towering, ancient trees. The land had never been effectively settled because of the stubborn woodland. It was the oldest part of the island, the first to have been formed near a now dormant volcano. Only shinobi could find their way through this part of the Land of Water.

Kamisori was able to navigate a very particular route through the treetops. He recognized twisted branches and knotholes that marked his position in the forest. Few knew it as well as he did.

'_I should not have spent so much time in Mist.' _He thought as he stopped on a gargantuan branch, _'It would have been best if I had continued relaying information between the Mizukage and the Yuki.' _He looked up to the grey sky overhead. No. Meeting Kuina had not been a setback. She was an invaluable friend and partner. It had been a chance worth taking.

He cleared his head with a deep breath before continuing on. _'And by encountering her I have discovered one of Kyonjin's most jealously guarded secrets…and it is one that I will not betray to the rebels. Knowledge of her sealing abilities could begin another war altogether…'_

All the same, there was no reasonable excuse he could give the leader of the Yuki clan for his absence. It was just as Zabuza had said, _'They'll see right through you.' _He was probably right. The Yuki were very astute and nearly impossible to persuade. They were notorious for rejecting every single one of Kyonjin's early "peace-conferences" and had instigated many rebel attacks.

It would not be prudent for a shinobi to visit the Yuki estate unarmed.

For that precise reason Kamisori planned to stop by his personal abode. It was located in the thick of the northern woodland, and took nearly all morning to reach. After passing a ridge that was dense with vegetation he knew that he was close. The sound of a nearby waterfall was another landmark.

After a short descent down the valley slopes to the canopy of lofty redwoods, he had arrived. Kamisori leapt from a large branch to the back portico of his home. When living at the Yuki estate had become unbearable years ago, he had begun hunting for real estate closer to Mist. What he did end up with he did not purchase.

The house was built around and through the tree tops, its mid-section anchored by several ancient trunks. It was a traditional style with modern amenities that had been used by an elusive and wealthy drug lord. He had remained hidden from foes and sheltered a good many of his thugs with him. As a young man Kamisori had wiped out the gang during a mission and decided not to mention the residence in his report. He then had over three thousand square feet of space all to himself. He was still unsure what to do with all of it.

Kamisori crossed a footbridge from one treetop to the next, over to the main part of the manor. The blanket of dust about the place shamed the marvelous architecture. He was no housekeeper. It looked much more appealing from the outside. The inside was dingy and unkempt. There were few signs of life other than all of his worldly possessions being stored in a few of the rooms. Some of the furniture and supplies had been owned by the drug lord, and he had decided to keep what was useful.

Still, he would admit he was not proud of how the place looked. Living with Kuina had been preferable anyway.

The tatami mats and cherry wood floors just barely echoed his presence as he passed by. Down near the end of a long hallway Kamisori stopped and slid open the door to his bedroom. It was spacious and may have been considered desirable if not for the dust and murkiness.

On top of a display to the left of the room lay Nuibari.

He stood over it, thoughtful, and lifted the sword with reverence. It was a long, slim blade that came to a puncturing point. Built into the hilt was a long line of cable that could be used for many purposes in battle. Kuriarare was known for stitching his opponents together to scare off enemies. Kamisori had developed a similar method of intimidation.

It had been some time since he had last cared for the blade. Kamisori brought it outside to the terrace of the house to clean and oil it. The spindle of the hilt had a jam and it took time to work it loose. He tested the wire for imperfections but found it to be in good shape, _'If I had stored it in the Master Scroll it wouldn't have been maintained. Mangetsu would have used it only for battle and not given it a second thought…' _Not that he blamed the prodigy for such a thing; he was bearing the brunt of the war.

The blade only needed a slight sharpening. He lashed out and sliced a beetle in two while it had been in flight. It passed the test.

Once Nuibari was returned to pristine condition Kamisori tied it to its sash and draped it over his shoulder. Now came the hard part.

He set out once again at a fast pace, taking the shortest route out of the forest to the coast. The Yuki made their home on a separate island. It was a long distance off as well. He passed through the woods without disturbing a single leaf. The trees became scarcer towards the land's edge, and completely gave way to stepped cliffs over the sea.

The poor weather had made the waves choppy and uncooperative. On a better day he would have frozen a sheet over the water and crossed without complaint. Instead he had to resort to long-distance water-walking, using chakra to hop over steep waves. Over time it became draining. _'It appears the Yuki haven't set up any patrols yet…' _Even if he was alone while crossing the bay, it would be perilous getting near the Yuki stronghold.

An island came into view on his right. He pressed on, glad that the waves were less rough further into the inlet. Kamisori stopped on a cluster of rocks and coral. He gulped down an entire canteen of water and surveyed his surroundings, _'Not too much farther…'_

A clear sky was beyond the dark clouds of the mainland. Kamisori reveled in the sunlight as he entered the outer reaches of the bay. It was just as cold as the mainland had been, but the waves were calm. He froze the water periodically to walk on top of; a more chakra-efficient strategy. Two islands were visible in the distance. The larger one to the left housed the Yuki estate.

Kamisori took his time, knowing that if he rushed to his destination that guards may react defensively. He was surprised to find only one guard posted on the beach and she let him pass without speaking a word. He looked over his shoulder. The girl was young and sad-looking, _'I don't recognize her…' _Kamisori stopped and turned back to the young guard.

"Pardon me, but do I know you?"

She looked up slowly. She was dark-haired like most of the Yuki, but her eyes were a similar hue to Kamisori's; blue was an uncommon trait in the family. She spoke in a gentle voice, "I don't believe so, sir. My name is Oehi."

"Oehi? That does sound familiar. Where are you usually stationed?" Kamisori asked.

"I am Prince Shiratori's personal attendant." Oehi replied, standing a bit straighter, "I have been asked to undertake more duties now that most shinobi have been deployed for battle."

"Are you a kunoichi?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hyoton?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled, sensing potential within the girl. He gave her an approving nod before saying, "You may call me Kamisori. It's nice to meet you Oehi. I'm afraid I am not here very often and so I have not been introduced to all of the trainees."

"I see. It is nice to meet you as well, Kamisori-san!" She gave a formal bow.

Kamisori continued on up a small hill and through the main gate. The palace had sprawling courtyards and high walls. Each yard was adorned with stone gardens and trees that were both eye-catching and functional. He kept to the pebble-path that led to the main house.

Though unconscionably wealthy, the Yuki were not nearly as influential as they had been ten years ago. Shinobi and resources had been lost to the war, and the clan was much more cautious nowadays. They were willing to support the war so long as the Yuki came out on top in the end. It would be a difficult goal to reach even by their standards.

A few of his kinsmen were out on the grounds. Most had dark hair, although a few had light hair as a product of cross-breeding with the Kaguya clan. Only men and women who lacked the Shikotsumyaku blood limit were permitted to marry into the Yuki, and even then the trait was prone to appearing in children anyway. In the event a child was born with the ability they would be sent to live with the Kaguya. The same policy stood with the Kaguya clan sending Hyoton-children to the Yuki, that was, before they had met their end. A few Kaguya were currently living among the Yuki.

All were well-dressed and impeccably groomed. Members of the Yuki clan were experts at keeping up appearances.

On the terrace of the main house Kamisori nodded to one of his cousins. She only stared back at him suspiciously. It was not a good indicator of his present standing with the clan.

Inside the main house a servant ushered him along the east corridor to where the clan head was waiting. The servant slid open a door and announced his arrival before promptly retreating. Kamisori entered the room and bowed lowly.

"Jinsong-sama…please forgive my lateness." He was convincingly contrite.

Jinsong was seated at a table and dressed in rich, fish-pattern robes. He finished delicately pouring a cup of sake before he gestured for Kamisori to take a seat, "You've been gone quite a while, Kamisori."

Kamisori sat beside the clan head, "Please accept my sincere apology, Jinsong-sama."

"I may just do that." The older man peered at him with sharp eyes, "Would you care for some sake?"

"Yes, thank you."

Jinsong poured another cup of the wine and offered it to his subordinate. Not wanting to be rude Kamisori took an eager sip of it, although he half expected it to be poison. _'I could be in for a world of trouble…'_

Kamisori procured a scroll from his bag and offered it to the leader of the Yuki. "Mist is particularly treacherous now, as you can imagine. This information was difficult to collect." His explanation was somewhat redundant, and more than likely useless.

Jinsong nodded and considered the scroll for a while. Kamisori had made a point to exclude Kuina from the report entirely, even though he had divulged very sensitive information about Mist.

After reviewing the main details of the scroll Jinsong chuckled to himself, "My…these jinchuriki are quite young, aren't they?" He sipped his sake. Silence followed as he scanned the document a bit further.

The dark haired man looked up and commended Kamisori's work, "Very good…excellent…but surely it should not have taken so very long to gather all of this intelligence?"

Kamisori met his leader's eyes boldly, "I have had good reason to linger in Mist. I have secured the Mizukage's trust and faithfully delivered this information to you, my lord."

Jinsong ground his teeth for a moment. He spoke gruffly, "What, pray tell, makes you so faithful and trustworthy, Kamisori? Hardly anyone would unconcernedly depend on a loner like you."

"I acknowledge that I have been gone for a long while, Jinsong-sama."

"That is abundantly clear." The man snipped.

"I'm engaged." Kamisori announced.

A pause followed. Kamisori figured it would be a sufficient curveball.

Jinsong was surprised by the statement, but also aware that Kamisori had been a bona-fide bachelor if there had ever been one. He looked at his subordinate for a long while, searching for intent. He was confounded. He had to concede that every aspect of the man speaking to him conveyed truthfulness. Jinsong rubbed his neck and then sighed, mulling it over.

At length he congratulated Kamisori, "How delightful for you…and such an arrangement will be a reliable cover while you are in Mist."

"Of course."

"Send records of your marriage to the estate…you may not bring an outsider here."

"Understood."

"Ah…very well." Jinsong rolled up the scroll, "I look forward to your next update, Kamisori. You are dismissed."

"Sir?"

Jinsong glanced up as he poured himself more sake.

Kamisori continued, "Has there been any word from Okimo?"

The leader gave an even deeper sigh, "Only the one note and you saw it long ago. I'm afraid your sister has no intentions of returning here. I do grieve her loss…there is no way to tell if she has survived the war or not."

Kamisori nodded, "Thank you, Jinsong-sama."

He exited the tea room, wounded by the news. He could not blame his sister for fleeing the Yuki clan. It had been torturous for her.

Kamisori made his way in silence out of the main house and down the steps. Across the courtyard he could see a few elite members of the Yuki, and among them, a man dressed in silver regalia. He was looking in Kamisori's direction, smirking impishly.

His blood boiled.

Though elegant-looking, the silver-clad nin was the same piece of filth that had broken his sister's spirit years ago. Yuki Inejiro: a veteran Hyoton-user and a ruthless, womanizing brute. His sister had not been the first woman in the clan who had run away, but likely the last since the war had intensified.

Kamisori took to the pebble-path at a brisk pace, hoping his desire to fillet the arrogant thug was not too apparent. _'The day that Inejiro sets foot on the main island…I'll stitch him until he begs for the relief of hell.'_

* * *

Kuina returned home from work in a very good mood. Guo had agreed to begin training for advanced medical techniques required of high-level officers. Presently, she was the only officer, _'I'm in charge! Of…myself…' _

With any luck, Guo would be able to replace her as Chief in less than ten years. Tentatively, ten years. Now _that _was how a champion planned retirement. A real investment; _'I mean apprentice! Yeah. He's more like an informal apprentice…' _

She set a plastic bag of groceries down on the counter, chuckling to herself.

Guo was talented and mentally stable. He was worthy of the knowledge. The techniques she had collected from tireless, up-all-night-for-weeks reading all those years ago. There was no use making another busy young medic sift through volumes of tome-like health journals. She had done it all in one fell swoop as a young woman in order to deal with depression and heartache. Somehow she had survived the dark chapter of her life and ended up successful. Guo's story ought to be happier, she felt. Simpler.

Kuina opened the refrigerator and stowed away the meat and vegetables that she had paid _too _much for, _'Hey, food is a war-time luxury.' _Then, she arranged the other perishables she had bought just to conceal her carton of milk. She hoped hiding it at the very back amongst bags and boxes would prevent Kamisori from locating it and quickly guzzling it down. It was a pet peeve. _'He drinks it all at once, that animal. He won't buy his own either.' _Kuina had disguised her dairy and then stood and shut the door, _'Men...'_

Once her task was done she went to the stove to put on some tea. A note was taped to the kettle. She pulled it off: _Kuina, I'll be back tonight. _Smiling to herself she put the scrap paper aside and lit the stove. Though she did not know where he had gone she certainly looked forward to his return.

She went to the living room window and opened it a crack to let the cool air in, _'Man is it stuffy in here…' _Her hamster was nestled in the bedding at the bottom of his cage, and she scooped him up, taking him with her back to the kitchen. The small rodent fidgeted sleepily in her palm.

She took a seat at the table and set her hamster down beside a pile of sunflower seeds. While her pet tucked into his dinner, Kuina opened the long-awaited letter from her fisherman father.

_To my only daughter: Hello Kuina, I'm sorry that it takes so long to get back to you. These couriers are a bunch of chicken-shits. If I were a bit younger I'd go around delivering mail myself, and I don't care that we're in the middle of a war either. I've dealt with ninja before in my life! You wouldn't know it, but right now we are experiencing one of the worst fishing seasons in five years. You probably already pay top dollar for your food in Mist, I bet._

Kuina glanced over to her refrigerator and frowned. True. Keeping food around sucked up a large portion of her paycheck. It was ludicrous. She continued reading.

_Other than that, I can't complain. I'm fed and I'm safe. I have good, honorable neighbors. We can get by. You, on the other hand, I worry about. You have a lot of responsibility on your young shoulders. I still say you take too many risks for a village that can't tell right from wrong anymore. That's my opinion, anyway. I know it's not your fault. It just frustrates me that all of these years a compassionate and gifted woman such as yourself has been roped into fighting pointless battles._

The tea kettle began to whistle and Kuina stood and shut the flame off. She poured the boiling water over her mug of tea leaves before she proceeded.

_You ought to live in a village that has more to offer you. Maybe it's too late for me to suggest this, but try to remember your mom's girl, little Kushina, who lives in the Leaf Village. You can be successful there, I mean, it is the first place your mom ran to when things got bad. I know those Uzumaki people think they're so clever and funny, what with naming their kids to sound alike. Her brothers were named Tenji and Renji, and so then she has you after her eldest daughter and that idea got into her head after a few drinks. Your mom thought she was being so original. _

Kuina laughed very hard. He had probably ended up with her mother only because of her sense of humor. It had been a very brief, very loud relationship.

_Well, the point is you deserve a good life and happiness. I'm not sure you can have that anywhere around here. It sounds to me from your last letter that you are going through standard war bullshit. I just want things to work out for you because you're the only kid I've got, and you're the best there ever was. I know you serve the public and all, but don't forget to take care of yourself and do what's right for you. Hang in there Kuina, and I hope to hear from you again soon._

_Endless love, Dad_

_Also, try to visit me soon, missy, because old guys like me die eventually! I'm serious! _

She set the paper down and sighed. Oh, how she loved her father. Even though things had not worked out between him and her mother, somehow she had never felt badly about it. His love had always filled her up and inspired her. _'How many men could do a good job raising a daughter all by themselves?' _He had done it and done it brilliantly.

Kuina had never known her mother personally. She had been a baby when her mother and older sister left. The persecution of those who had survived the destruction of the Hidden Eddy Village had driven them far and wide until they finally disappeared. Some had found new homes. Others had not. She could not say that she knew what it was like. She had grown up under the protection of the Mist Village.

Sipping her tea slowly she watched her hamster gradually envelope a seed in his mouth. His dark eyes stared ahead unseeing, caring only about savoring his food. His cheeks were inflated with sunflower seeds. Kuina wondered if he ate most of the seeds after he was tucked in the safety of his bedding. After having his fill of seeds (which was the whole pile) her fat-cheeked friend waddled across the table to her letter and chewed at it.

'_Dad…I do have a good life here. I am happy…somehow it happened.' _Kuina thought as she took the paper away from her pet, _'I have a great man to love, wonderful friends, and a high-paying job. Mist…really isn't so bad.'_

She picked up her rambunctious hamster before he wandered off the edge of the table. Kuina set him down in his cage before finishing the last of her tea. She shut the window and looked down at the streets below. People walked the streets with their heads tucked and steps brisk in the cold.

Life was not good for everyone around here. The end of the war would not mean immediate prosperity, but it definitely _would_ be a far cry from what the people of the Land of Water had been putting up with for the past few years. It would be easier to visit her father then. Kamisori would not have to lead a double life. Guo could put more time into his studies.

'_I wonder if the Leaf Village is any better than the Mist Village...' _She turned the lights off with the exception of one lamp, for Kamisori, and then went to her bedroom. _'From what I heard, Kushina had her share of problems there too. I guess that no matter where you are, all you can do is try to make a name for yourself.' _She slipped into bed, deciding that in reality all villages faced hardships.

Outside, beyond the shops and frigid streets, from the roof of an office building, Kamisori could see a light through the window of Kuina's apartment.

* * *

_Expect lots of Zabuza in the next chapter. Also, I want to forewarn that there will be violence and very sensitive subjects in the next chapter. It is intended for mature readers, which I am assuming you are._


	7. Fight culture

_Caution: Please be advised that this chapter contains violence and other adult themes. Thank you for reading at your maturity level._

* * *

"I already said that I don't know where he is."

"Momochi-san, I was told you were the last person to be in contact with Shon before his capture."

"Exactly." Zabuza replied bluntly.

Kyonjin frowned, "Yes…so you are telling me that Shon did not communicate any of his plans to you?"

"He's the kind of a person who does things without planning first," Zabuza answered, knowing it was a downright lie, "Even if he knew what the hell he was doing, he wouldn't tell me."

The Mizukage evaluated Zabuza from his desk, his lips pursed in aggravation. Eventually he sighed, "Fair enough…"

He sensed that maybe Zabuza did know something, but there was no way to be sure if Shon was alive currently. Despite Hayago's report and the evidence gathered showing a high death toll, it seemed suspicious that Shon had not been spotted. Zabuza was not going to be the one to provide him with proof one way or the other.

Without warning, Rama entered the office, bowing swiftly before speaking, "Mizukage-sama, both of the trackers that Hayago deployed to follow the Kaguya survivors were just found dead beyond the village limits! Hayago is investigating it now, but he believes they may intend to enter Mist for revenge."

"Is that so?" Kyonjin was not pleased, "Send word to border patrols to keep watch for them. All available C-group jounin are to report to Hayago immediately. They won't set foot in Kirigakure on my watch…"

"Yes, sir!" Rama nodded and quickly left to contact Hayago.

The Mizukage turned back to Zabuza, "Should the last of those brutes enter the village, I expect you to help wipe them out. Until then, I leave it to you to discover what happened to Kaguya Shon. If he is alive, I expect you to return him to village…if he refuses, kill him."

"Yes, Mizukage-sama."

"Very good, you are dismissed."

Zabuza gladly took his leave.

It just never ended. Rebels trying to enter the village? Kill them. Former ally trying to abandon Mist during a war? Make sure he dies too. Kyonjin expected him to mop up after just about everything.

From his point of view, Shon was more or less harmless, _'He's a hippie. He's going to sit around, smoke, and admire nature if he has free time.' _The likelihood of the last of the Kaguya surviving, he believed, was damn near close to zero. With Abe Higashikuni guarding the outer limits of the village, they were likely to sustain terrible causalities if they came too close.

Kyonjin just wanted to keep him busy to prevent him from plotting an uprising. Too bad that wasn't going to stop him.

It was meaningless drivel like this that made Zabuza weigh the pros and cons of leaving Mist.

He mulled it over again as he passed through the office district, entering a forested area within the city limits. It was a training ground he used whenever there was a chance he would be on call for a mission. As much as he hated Kyonjin, he had to be available or risk the contempt of the village leader once again.

Zabuza let the Seversword sit idly beside the trunk of an oak. He relaxed before proceeding with Chin Na forms, letting muscle memory take over while his thoughts roamed.

With Kyonjin being a controlling, socially inept leader, it made sense to accuse him of manipulating the Chief Medic and other gifted shinobi with or without Kekkei Genkai. _'He has the Chief sealing all of his problems away, and blood limit turncoats at his beck and call…he never has to get his hands dirty again…'_

It was rumored that Kyonjin had a Kekkei Genkai himself, however it was still unconfirmed. The last time he had entered battle was…no one really knew. What was certain was that Kyonjin was powerful, but was even more so a great coward. He had no allies, which was the reason he dissolved the Seven Swords for fear of being outnumbered. _'He never would have been a match for us, and he knew it.' _

Zabuza concluded that Kyonjin lacked the ambition that others, like himself, possessed. Nearly all of his actions were dictated by fear. It was a strange thing that he had come to power in the first place.

The Mizukage had also served as his personal critique, though Zabuza hated to admit. Many times he had been told by his superiors that though he desired to be the strongest, he did not have a legitimate reason.

"Caring only for yourself is not a purpose, Zabuza." Shon had told him. He couldn't stand it when people told him he had no purpose. Was seeing others fuck up in Mist not reason enough? He could do it better, in his humble opinion.

Shon had also mentioned that nearly all of the current members of the Swords had plenty to live for, even the young prodigy, Mangetsu. They all had some kind of genuine motivation.

"Zabuza, you may want to _change _the Mist village, but you just don't know how to _care _for it."

'_Damn that hippie.' _It was completely true, and he had never denied it. The action of _caring _was something Zabuza was sure he had not done, even scarcely before his parents had been killed when he was small.

Zabuza paused, shifting his stance before continuing with his forms.

He did consider that being alone, as he had been for all of his life, did limit his understanding of people. As acute as his perception was, his cynical attitude often kept him from seeing that thing people called "the bright side".

'_I have no patience for that shit.' _No worthwhile person had turned up yet. Life was not a positive or fair experience; it was brutal and mathematically supported. On the average people were liars, cowards, and egomaniacs. That was just how it was. Then again, he was a homegrown Mist shinobi who had never really gotten out to see the world.

The Water Country's fight culture was all he knew.

'_So fuck it.' _He thought, _'I don't need anyone.' _

Zabuza had learned some things. His former comrades from the Swords had moved on. They had reasons to do so. Where he had gotten stuck, this "limbo" of servitude to the Mizukage, was not where he wanted to be. Additionally, Kyonjin's paranoid behavior had taught him that continuously killing did not get one ahead in life. It just made you look bad.

If he ever hoped to get out of his current situation, he needed to do something. It had to be soon.

Exhaling, Zabuza ended his forms and then retrieved the Seversword. The snapping of twigs caught his attention.

Passing by a few meters ahead were the Kaguya stragglers. They did not even notice Zabuza staring from his place in the underbrush. The group moved quickly, having entered the village undetected, or at least they had been able to kill whoever was in their way.

It was then Zabuza had a twinge of that "caring" thing. It was more like a "help the village because I can" or "might as well" sort of feeling. He took off in silence, ready to alert Mist to the threat.

* * *

The work day dragged on sluggishly. Kuina had only briefly spoken to Kyonjin before returning to her duties at the hospital, and he had been terribly moody, _'Though…he isn't the most cheerful man in Mist, that's for sure…'_

She had only requested a low level mission, possibly with genin who were interested in beginning medic training. He had flat-out rejected her request and sent her on her way. Rather than take offense to her speedy discharge from his office, Kuina stopped by the post office to drop off her reply to her father.

"It could take a while to get it to the coast…" The courier admitted contritely, "But we _will _deliver it for you, Arashino-san."

She thanked the mail attendant before crossing the main intersection back to the hospital. The village had an odd buzz about it. Earlier she had crossed paths with Hayago but he had been too busy to chat, _'Something tells me it has to do with Kyonjin-sama's nasty mood before…everyone is restless…'_

Three new patients were whisked into the lobby as Kuina entered, and she stopped at the white board to look over the chart. There was no doubt her interns would take care of the injured shinobi who had come in. Other than that, the chart scheduled a few routine operations, one of which she would oversee that evening. It looked like a very manageable chart today.

"First things first…" She muttered, picking up her clip board, "Check A-wing, find Taki, confirm the date of that clinical trial…and then…" She scratched her head, then set off down the hallway scribbling notes to herself.

After an uneventful trip up and down the length of the A-wing and reprimanding Taki, her useless subordinate, she had reached the lobby again. Kuina glanced at the digital clock on the front desk: 10:00AM. _'Gosh…my sleep routine must be waaaay off…'_

It was then Nago appeared, taking long strides from the sliding doors with Sashayma tucked in her arms. Kuina made eye contact with her and slowly set her clipboard down. Nago was silent.

Kuina stretched her arms and took the trembling girl from Nago, her expression wracked with concern, "Nago…" The question in her eyes went unacknowledged by the other kunoichi.

"Please take care of her." Her friend said, and then she promptly rushed out.

The Chief Medic sat the quaking girl down on a gurney, taking in her disheveled appearance. She held Sashayma gently by the shoulders and spoke softly, "Sashayma, what on earth happened?"

"That man…Iori…" The girl managed to speak between sobs, "He did it just so…Nago w-would…fight him." She inhaled sharply, "I t-tried t-to get him off of me…b-but he attacked me w-when my shift ended…"

Kuina stared dumbly at her friend. The disbelief of the situation rooted her to the spot. How could something like this happen to one of her closest friends? _'That man actually thinks he can get away with assaulting someone? And only to infuriate Nago, no less!'_

"Okay…" She said quietly, holding the girl for a moment.

Sashayma continued to weep while Kuina shouted orders to a nearby nurse. When she spotted Guo she practically shrieked his name while waving him over. The young man quickly determined what was going on even without his superior's explanation.

"I'll have her examined and taken care of right away." Guo said, motioning for Sashayma to stay on the gurney so that he could relocate her.

"Kuina! Please!" Sashayma reached out and held onto the Chief Medic's arm, "Stop Nago before they f-fight! She won't listen to anyone else!"

Kuina nodded gravely, "I will."

* * *

It had already begun. She needed only to follow civilians on the street who were watching the scuffle from a distance. The irate woman exchanged furious blows with the Anbu captain atop a vacant building. Fighting for Sashayma's honor would lure Nago to use her most powerful techniques. Pipelines along the street had raised and burst; evidence that jutsu were being used.

"Back! Get back, all of you!" Kuina warned onlookers to stay as far away as possible from the fight. She leapt up to a fire escape and ascended, hoping the combatants would not notice her.

Nago's water clones circled Iori on the rooftop, stalling in preparation for a powerful water jutsu. With no warning, Iori summoned from a scroll, and he lashed out with a barbed-wire whip that shredded each replication. He laughed, charging towards the kunoichi as he swung, but ran headlong into a flying-kick.

Most of the man's front teeth were knocked out, and as his whip coiled down Nago dodged it, rolling in a whirlwind of dark hair. She hurled a storm of shuriken a fraction too late, only hitting a substitute, and by the time she stood again Iori landed a brutal kick on her flank.

From an adjacent rooftop, Kuina watched in horror as Nago was flung from the top of the tall building.

As if his counter was not enough, Iori completed another technique, his words slurred with blood, "Suiton: Mizurampa!"

The violent water jutsu blasted the kunoichi downward, whirling through six awnings, several clotheslines, a small billboard, and then finally the concrete.

Screaming, Kuina tackled Iori from behind, plunging him down a slanted roof on the left. They fell a long way, but the remaining clotheslines and wires slowed their descent, and they landed on their feet on the sidewalk below.

All of her training with Kamisori kicked into overdrive, and Kuina dove into close-quarters with the brute, fueled entirely by rage.

Dizzy, Iori managed to gain his footing and block her swift strikes, although one punch broke his guard and finally sent him tumbling. He fell, slipping on garments that had drifted down onto the street. Kuina leapt with a kunai in hand, intending to jam it in his forehead.

He tumbled away, swinging the whip again and snared Kuina's forearms in the hooked barbs. She howled in excruciation, realizing that the metal was heated and was burning into her flesh.

On reflex she produced a chakra chain from her body and hurled it, snagging her enemy's feet. Iori tripped again, his ankles hog-tied, and his chakra siphoned away as Kuina wriggled free from the hideous barbed-whip. Before he could swing again a water clone landed a relentless pile-drive on his stomach, and his wail of agony followed before the replication splashed away.

They separated, dragging themselves to their feet while forming hand signs. Kuina kept Iori ensnared in her chain, and when they did launch water techniques at each other Iori's jutsu pittered out, lacking energy. She connected solidly with a Water Dragon Blast and watched as he flew into a newsstand and crushed it, released from her chain.

Absorbing it back into her body Kuina fell to her knees, whimpering. Her arms bled and burned. She hastily healed herself, knowing that her opponent may or may not have been down for the count. Across the way she saw Yagura rush across the street, and he seemed to be aware that Iori was at fault.

The young jinchuriki pummeled the beaten man with his staff.

'_That'll keep him down…' _Kuina's thoughts slowly flowed again, and she stood on wobbly legs before finding the place where Nago had fallen.

Nago lay crumpled on a shattered section of sidewalk. Kuina kneeled beside her and brushed the hair from her face, "Nago!"

The woman's eyes fluttered, barely capable of responding. A few of her fingers twitched.

Kuina looked over her friend, checking her neck first and then proceeded downward. It was just as bad as she had feared.

The woman's back had been broken in several places.

"Shit!" Kuina hissed, feeling the hot tears begin to roll down her cheeks. What an absolute waste it had been, letting that man goad them into action!

Upon further inspection Kuina found evidence of internal injuries, but miraculously Nago opened her eyes and began to speak.

"Sashayma?"

"It's me, Kuina. I promise Sashayma will be okay."

Kuina focused on the internal injuries first, precision-pointing a green beam of chakra into her friend's abdomen. The damage was extensive, and sensing the area more thoroughly Kuina began to panic, realizing that no amount of her own energy could undo the numerous injuries Nago had. The woman was slipping away.

"No…not today you don't…" Kuina cried, wiping her eyes on her shoulder as she worked, trying to see what she was doing.

"I…can't believe…we'll spend…our entire lives…fighting." Nago rasped, her eyes staring upward.

"You won't!" Kuina objected, "There's more in store for you! Don't get all transcendental on me!"

"There's nothing…in store…"

"Nago!"

People on the street gathered, one of whom happened to be a doctor. He asked Kuina to let him stay and honor the fallen kunoichi. Another man said a blessing as Nago died, bowing his head solemnly. Women watched with disturbed expressions, considering that the senseless act of violence reflected all too clearly what was thought of their sex in Mist.

Kuina stood again. Her head felt foggy and seemed to float above her shoulders. Her friends had suffered so much in such a short span of time. The town clock on the corner read 10:34. The doctor marked it as the time of death.

Shaking, Kuina turned to look over at the ruined newsstand where Yagura stood. He had beaten Iori into complete submission. They locked eyes. Her pain was communicated instantly to the young man and his gaze strayed to the fallen woman across the road. She had passed. _'This man will be tried severely for his actions.' _Yagura thought to himself. He was surprised when Kuina called out to him.

"Yagura, hit him."

He gave the Chief Medic a confused look. He then kicked the kneeling man in the gut, watching him crumple over once again.

Aggression surged in the kunoichi, and she closed the distance between her and the scoundrel. She looked briefly at Yagura, "You don't hit hard enough!"

Her fists came down on the crippled Anbu captain, savagely thrashing the pathetic man in front of the crowd that had gathered. Yagura merely watched, thinking that it was best to let her proceed to make an example of the man.

By the time Hayago had appeared to restrain her, Iori was beaten beyond recognition. Kuina's hands were sticky with blood, and she looked at Hayago with wild eyes. He stared into them, and his deep voice retrieved her from her rage, "Enough Kuina, this isn't who you are."

She eventually became still again, letting Hayago lead her away from the scene by her upper arm. The captain barked orders at gathering chunin, one of whom helped Yagura drag Iori to the administration building for investigation.

Hayago sat Kuina down on a bench and then Guo appeared, and after a brief exchange with Hayago he began to heal the Chief Medic. She covered her face with her hands as she cried, "What are you doing here?"

"I was sent here to help! Your friend is going to be okay."

"No…but I…let Nago die. I couldn't do what Sashayma asked me…" She wept.

Guo's chakra swept over her arms again, mending the wire gashes that had not completely healed, despite her earlier effort. He ran his fingers over the cuts on her cheek, sealing them with care. Guo took a seat beside her on the bench and continued to look for wounds. He was just as upset as his superior.

"Sempai," He said, "None of this is your fault, you know."

Through clouded vision Kuina watched as the good doctor and other civilians carefully moved Nago's body. Hayago walked with them, leading the way to the hospital.

When he could find no more injuries Guo patted Kuina's back, helping her settle down. A short time later she got a hold of herself, "Guo?"

"Yes?"

"Go to the hospital and ask Hayago to meet me at the Mizukage's office."

"Are you sure you want to go there?"

"Yes, there's no way I am letting that degenerate try to beg Kyonjin-sama for mercy."

* * *

Kyonjin's hollering reverberated off the walls in the Administration Building.

"I have a report from Momochi-san indicating that what remains of the Kaguya clan is attacking our village at this very moment! Were you aware of that?" The Mizukage loomed over Iori, who was on his knees and being restrained by Yagura, "NO. Of course you weren't! You have been suspended from missions for weeks, you walk around drunk in broad daylight, and now you are responsible for the baseless rape and killing of women!"

The whole room flinched.

"YOU ARE THROUGH! You've had a third, and fourth chance already, Iori, yet you are no better than those rebel scum!" Kyonjin gestured for the door, "Get him out of my sight!"

Two guards toted Iori out while Yagura, Hayago and Kuina remained in the office, waiting for the Mizukage to catch his breath. He slammed his hands on the hard wood of his desk, muttering furiously, and then reached into a drawer to get his cigarettes.

Kyonjin looked back to the shinobi who were scrutinizing him. He smirked as he spoke, "We are under attack, you know. And that? That was supposed to be one of Mist's elite?" He lit a cigarette in one practiced motion and began to suck the smoke down. He closed his eyes and exhaled, at last able to calm down.

"Iori was an incompetent, selfish captain from day one." Hayago observed, "This incident could have been prevented."

"Indeed it could have been prevented…" Kyonjin agreed, "The loss of a kunoichi like Nago will affect this village. Our female shinobi are so few and so valuable…something like this can never happen again."

"I want Iori punished to the greatest extent possible." Kuina added, her wrath still pricking at the edge of her calm façade.

The Mizukage smoked the cig down to its filter and then lit another. He took a drag before saying, "All in due course, Kuina. Process first, punishment later. He will pay dearly for this; I will see to it myself."

It had been the first thing Kyonjin had said in a long while that she was happy with.

"Now, I would appreciate it if you return to the hospital to look after yourself and your patients." He nodded at Kuina, and then looked to the men, "I expect both of you to help Zabuza crush the last of the Kaguya near the gate."

"Understood." Hayago affirmed.

The two were kind enough to drop Kuina off at the hospital before going to squash the last of the rebellion. Kuina trudged into the building, _'And…here I am again…' _She walked up to the front desk and checked the clipboard. Sashayma's room number was most recently added.

A jounin popped into the lobby to inform people to stay indoors until "the threat was neutralized". She then tottered off down the corridor, numb, and entered the room she had looked up. There she found Sashayma crying again and a nurse was with her, holding a tissue box for her.

"It's alright. I'll stay with her for now." Kuina offered.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, ma'am?"

"Positive."

The nurse nodded and then left the room. Kuina sat down on the rolling chair and held the box for her friend. Sashayma knew how it had ended.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you."

Sashayma dabbed at her eyes. Her face was scarlet; her lips dry and cracked from the tears.

"It happened to you too, Kuina."

* * *

"Thank you for promptly locating and exterminating the Kaguya, Momochi-san." Kyonjin felt a great deal of relief that something had actually been accomplished, "I have one last task for you."

"What might that be?"

"If you will follow Hayago to the disciplinary hold, I need you to execute a former Anbu captain of mine. Beheading will suffice, and the area has been marked off for you and a witness."

Zabuza was, for once, surprised, "Right now? Which one?"

"Iori."

That was less surprising.

"What did he do?"

"Assault and murder of kunoichi, among other things." Kyonjin replied, "I would appreciate it if you rid our village of him."

Even in his book, such a thing was unacceptable. The fucker's time had come.

"Consider it done."

* * *

Kuina laid in bed for days without eating or drinking. Even though Iori had quickly been brought to justice, living with the pain seemed much harder than dying in consequence.

Kamisori went to great lengths to get food and water in her system, however she barely cooperated. Sitting upright in bed she withered, even with her pet hamster keeping her company. She would only be her normal, balanced self for a short while before reverting back into her depressed, contemplative state.

"I should have been there for my friends." She lamented, "If I had known they were being harassed for a week before all of this, I would have intervened."

"You can't change it." Kamisori pointed out, "They did not come to you for help when they should have. You did what you could, so none of this is on you."

He sat on the edge of the bed, spoon-feeding her small amounts of oatmeal. Very slowly, her strength and will began to return. Talking, he supposed, was the only way she was going to deal with the trauma.

Each at different times, Guo, Hayago and even Utakata had stopped by to cheer her up. For once Kamisori was glad that they cared greatly for Kuina, knowing that as friends they would find a way to help her recover.

Guo had assured her that he was looking after Sashayma, who was also steadily improving. He then invited Kuina to attend a genin seminar that was coming up, "I was hoping that you would stop by and explain the role of medic nin and their work. You said you always wanted to do something like that…"

"I would like to go." Kuina affirmed.

On his way out of the apartment, Guo thanked Kamisori, "Initially I thought you were trouble, but…you turned out to be just who she needed."

"I appreciate it." He thanked the medic, who he decided was not so bad himself.

Gradually, Kuina showed signs of improvement. She would bathe herself and move around the apartment. She thanked Kamisori for his patience. With time she was fully functioning once again, and scheduling her shifts at the hospital. Business seemed to resume as usual, but the memory of what had happened lingered in the back of her mind.

One night over dinner Kamisori sat across from Kuina at the table, over a meal she had cooked, and nearly bored a hole into her head with his sapphire gaze.

"Um…" She was a bit unsettled, "Is there anything you want to tell me, Sori?"

"I want to ask you something."

"Ah, well, go ahead."

"Has this incident made you give up on your optimism?"

She frowned slightly, "Will you stop dating me if I say yes?"

"I won't do such a thing."

Kuina sighed, "Truthfully…I think it has. It's been a wakeup call. I have been playing the fool thinking that life is so sweet here in Mist. There's just…no way to secure happiness in this village."

"But I make you happy, don't I?"

"Yes, of course you do!" Kuina responded, sticking her chopsticks vertically into her bowl of rice, "But…I might…lose you too."

Kamisori's expression softened, "No you won't, Kuina."

Her brows furrowed and her mouth quivered with grief. She stared down at the dishes on the table, her eyes not seeing for the moment. The inner conflict was bubbling up again. He hated to see her so sad, and more so, to see her struggle to contain the pain while putting on a brave face.

Kamisori reached across the table and ever so gently lifted her chin. Their eyes met.

"I wasn't going to ask you so soon…"

"Ask me what?" Kuina wondered, snapping back to reality and fiddling with her chopsticks.

"What I was going to ask you in a month or so…or when you were feeling _most _optimistic."

Kuina rested her chin on her hands, her elbows propped up on the table, "Well, you can always give it a try…"

"I want you to marry me."

There was a silence.

Kuina's mouth formed a small o-shape and she then sucked wind through it in shock. She blinked twice very hard, confirming consciousness, and then she nodded slowly.

"Yes. Oh yeah…WOW…that _would _cheer me up."

Kamisori gave her a small smile, "You are sure?"

The optimism flooded back.

"I am." She grinned at him, "Even if it is a bit on the early side, I…I really couldn't be with anyone else."

Kamisori smiled back genuinely as he leaned over the table and kissed her forehead, "Neither could I."

* * *

_A/N: Unfortunate, yes, but all of it had to happen. No I do not consider it a happy ending, it's more of a band-aid. And boy...those sure do sting when they get ripped off._


	8. I am not an altruist

_**A/N: Hello everyone! If there is any doubt/confusion on the Swordsman or other contextual details of the canon, please ask or refer back to the manga. We ought to thank Masashi Kishimoto and support his book sales (and repent for online scans, for we have all sinned). On that note, most things Mist-related from the canon will likely be included in this story, but some events may be tweaked. That…has proooobably become apparent thus far.**_

_**Additionally, please review! A big thank you goes out to: TyneBytes, 6tailedninja, absolute-ecstasy, and of course, Red Wings (who can now stop questioning when Haku appears, a-hem!). **_

_**A bit of input goes quite a long way. All I can do on my own is catch spelling errors and develop plot. You guys can suggest and expand what could happen here; just say what you think! It is much appreciated, and oftentimes suggestions get considered. No really, they do. Really. Hm. Well, that about wraps that up. Thanks all.**_

* * *

_Any man may easily do harm, but not every man can do good to another. – Plato_

The cold had arrived. The half-assed, transitional temperatures had given way to the stark cold and greyness of autumn.

Zabuza took a deep breath of the chilled, sea air. A harsh, northeastern wind was blowing into the village from the coast. It was his kind of weather.

It was mid-morning and he was feeling particularly lethargic. A few days earlier he had lead the charge in stomping out the last of the Kaguya clan. They had acted foolishly and made a scene near the center of the village. An abundance of high-ranking Mist shinobi had answered the call of duty and surrounded the dwindling group, engaging in a bloody but victorious battle.

He felt that the fight had been a rehash of what had happened at the Kaguya estate…yet it was stupid and an obvious waste of energy. They should have kept a low profile and attempted to assassinate Kyonjin: a more effective strategy. Even so, that plan was also not likely to succeed.

There had been no food in his apartment. He could not recall the last time he had shopped for anything. He was not sleeping well. He took too many missions. All things considered, he felt that Mist was the quintessential, soul-sucking void of ninja villages.

Knowing that, Zabuza was not sure why he had stayed.

The Mist village and its leader were certainly not motivating him (not that many things _did)_, and the former comrades that he still saw nowadays didn't do much for him either. He had not yet taken the step to abandon the village and strike out on his own. Part of him hoped that he would be able to accomplish something, preferably a coup, before he departed. How that was going to become a reality…he was still contemplating it.

Zabuza was on the verge of forsaking Kirigakure; he was just waiting for the proper cue.

For now, he was completing another menial task that Kyonjin had assigned: "Last night's report cited the suspected activity of the Yuki clan in a farming community…it is too close to the village for comfort. From what we know, they have not been able to extend their reach far past the coast or main lines. Investigate this, and should you encounter any of them, engage only if you feel you have the upper hand."

When Kyonjin had summoned him he was momentarily concerned he would be assigned as the replacement captain for Iori's ANBU squad. Thankfully, the Mizukage still did not trust him as far as he could throw him, so he must have thought better of it. Zabuza would not have liked to have become responsible for a new team or the extra work that came with it.

He had entered the countryside beyond Mist, and navigated up towards the foot of the mountain. Being situated inland and at a higher elevation made it much colder here. The harvests had long since passed, so the town was inactive and silent.

At the edge of the small settlement Zabuza stored away Kubakiri Houcho. With a few hand signs he "unsummoned" the sword, making the seal on his arm tingle. The Seven Swords, since nearly the beginning of their existence, had utilized a "master scroll" to contain the blades, which was always entrusted to the leader. Choosing a leader was rather simple: whoever had equal skill with all of the weapons would keep the Master Scroll.

Though young, Mangetsu was the current keeper of the scroll. He had already mastered all of the swords, although they were not always at his disposal. _'Not during a war…he'd be lucky to have one or two kept in there…'_

An asymmetrical seal on each swordsman was connected to the scroll, and thus could make a withdrawal if the leader was not nearby. Such a thing could become inconvenient for the leader in a time of need. But what mattered now, as a result of their disbandment, was that each individual had access. It was a relatively new concept, and the other swordsmen rarely were kind enough to let their blades be available in the Master Scroll.

Putting away the sword was the best way to keep a low profile. What few people were out on the street paid little mind to Zabuza as he passed through. He quickly began to doubt that the Yuki would have bothered with the place. The people did not _look _like a prestigious clan had passed through or raided…

Evidence was sorely lacking within the town, and so he took a side route along the tree-line of the surrounding forest to keep out of sight. Fields sprawled out over gently sloping hills. They were plucked bare and frost covered the ground. He passed by a field house, and no more than a mile away, he finally understood why the report had come in.

He could see it over the roof of a barn and the shed. He saw it from a _distance. _Huge ice pillars were protruding from a residence, glinting in the grey daylight.

'_Alright…that could have been an attack. I have no fucking clue why it would happen out here…but weird shit like this has become pretty commonplace.' _Zabuza approached the small farmhouse, not making any hasty judgments about what had happened.

He stood outside of the ruined home, scrutinizing the damage. There was no mistaking the power of the Hyoton. Residual chakra kept the pillars frozen: an indicator of recent activity. They would probably recede in a day or two. Several jutted from the roof and sides of the house, but there was no other hint that shinobi had stopped by or fought. With no signs of struggle around, the assault appeared to have been one-sided.

Zabuza circled the property, seeing nothing unusual outside of the house…inside was a different matter. Furniture was overturned and household items were strewn about the place. Blood was spattered across the wall and had dried in patches on the floor. _'Someone must have died…but they were moved.' _No bodies remained. Everything that was not encased in ice had been left alone.

He went outside again and took several paces away from the house. His hunch had proven correct: two small mounds of moved earth marked with stones served as graves. It had been a few days. Two people dead. No apparent reason _why._

'_There is no way the Yuki would be responsible for this. It's pointless. If they had successfully gotten this far…they would have done something meaningful.' _Zabuza concluded. _'The villagers buried the farmers who lived here…'_

Though it begged the question: if the Yuki had not passed through, who the hell had used the Hyoton?

It was absolutely the work of an ice technique, which few local shinobi were able to produce. Kamisori certainly had not made his way through the farms anytime recently, as far as he knew.

Was it possible that some unknown ninja had used the technique? It was indeed possible, but only by the tiniest, most remote margin. As for whether a rebel or a Mist nin was responsible, there was no clear answer. Mist paid barely any attention to the small hamlet, let alone a particular family of _farmers, _for pity's sake. Even rebel shinobi groups seldom attacked defenseless civilian villages. They had no need to.

Irritated, Zabuza moved on. He stalked across the field back towards the town, his footsteps crunching lightly on the frozen topsoil. Flurries of snow began to drift down in silence.

It would be easy just to blame it on some rogue ninja or perhaps throw more dirt on the Yuki name. To explain away this bizarre occurrence would not be too difficult, and it was almost assured that when he turned in his report to Kyonjin that the Mizukage would not send anyone else to investigate the damage; he would just send shinobi out to punish whoever was blamed for the attack. Zabuza would default to one such generic explanation when he returned to Mist for a debriefing.

The insane thing was, he had a pretty clear idea of what had happened. Someone who lived with the farmers must have snapped, for one reason or another, and skewered them. The nature of the relationship to those killed was irrelevant, but he was nearly dead sure that the attacker had used the Hyoton. It had happened in a contained environment, or so it seemed. _'How the fuck does someone who lives in a __**farmhouse **__lash out with that kind of power? More importantly, how does no one notice? People out here are quick when it comes to ratting out those with Kekkei Genkai…'_

It was not his style to stop and ask locals what had happened. He could make a fair guess on his own. He had heard about members of gifted clans running away and assimilating with every day people.

This typically occurred when an individual was not particularly strong as a shinobi, or when the suffering became too much. Such people forsook their lineage and disappeared in order to escape persecution. It was understandable, for during wartime the proliferation of propaganda and ignorance bred fear of those who possessed blood limits. The hatred of common people and shinobi alike sometimes caused them to flee the clan homestead, hoping to find a better life. It did not always work.

'_Take this incident as an example…someone was trying to be a farmer…but couldn't hide who they really were.' _Zabuza surmised.

While he was confident he had found the answer to this riddle, it was not guaranteed that he would find the culprit.

The snowflakes were coming down thickly. Zabuza passed through the town, returning down the road he had entered on. He was silent, staring blankly ahead as he formulated some cockamamie explanation for a mission report. From the corner of his eye, he noticed one lone soul remained out in the cold.

Seated against the railing of a bridge was a small boy. His chin was tucked to his chest and his knees pulled in close to guard against the frigid air. At first glance he appeared to be no more than a homeless scamp, but Zabuza ventured closer, and got a good look at the child.

In the back of his mind a buzzer went off. He had first assumed the Hyoton-runaway to be an adult, but after sensing the swirling energy and bleakness in the boy, he came to a new conclusion. This twerp must have attacked the farmers. He didn't care why; he just knew that it was a fact.

Zabuza chuckled lowly; stunned that a small boy could have wielded such power…on what was most likely _instinct. _He would say it was impressive, but the boy appeared to be the complete opposite. _'What a pitiful kid…'_

The child was dirty, his clothing tattered, and he was clearly going to die of either starvation or exposure. His power served as nothing but an excuse to kill him, as far as townspeople were concerned; so he kept to himself and did not ask for help. Like any other orphaned child he was on his own.

"A kid like you won't be needed by anyone. You'll just die a beggar, without freedom or dreams." He stated what was probably very obvious to the child, and he didn't expect to get a snappy reply either.

But he did.

"Oh." The boy looked up, evaluated the Mist shinobi with an astute gaze, and then smiled, "You have the same eyes as me."

Zabuza stared back at the boy, shocked. So there was some life in the little street urchin after all.

In fact, this kid, though plainly unwanted, had a lot of potential. He was young, perceptive, a bloodline user, and still had the will to continue even after tragedy. In most other circumstances, Zabuza would have moved on, but there was no way he could pass up an opportunity such as this.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Unflinching, unafraid, the boy said, "Yes."

"What's your name, kid?"

"Haku. What's your name, mister?"

"I'm Momochi Zabuza." He answered, watching as the boy wobbled to his feet, "We're leaving now, so you better keep up."

And then they were on their way, proceeding over the bridge and through the snowfall, with no one having witnessed the sacred new alliance that had formed.

Just outside of the town Zabuza began to realize what he had gotten himself into. By taking Haku under his wing, it meant that he would have to provide for him: keep him _alive_. He already knew that he was not well acquainted with such a task, and the boy was in pretty bad shape.

Crossing the harvested field that stood between them and the forest beyond was proving to be a challenge for Haku. Granted that it was snowing and he was poorly dressed **and **barefoot; his breathing was labored and shallow.

There would be no point in pushing the kid hard right out of the gate. He would expire before they reached the village, Zabuza estimated. Haku, to his credit, was able to make it a majority of the way across the clearing before finally collapsing from exhaustion. He hadn't made a peep. His system gave out and then _whop, _down he went.

After a moment of uncertainty, Zabuza bent and scooped the child up, folding him over his shoulder to be carried like a towel. He didn't know the proper way to carry a living person, so he improvised. Haku was cold to the touch and quaking; definitely suffering from the effects of neglect. He unhitched a small flask from his belt (only water today) and tipped it into the boy's mouth.

"When was the last time you ate or drank?"

"I don't really know…"

Zabuza sighed, acknowledging it would take way more than a drink of water to patch the kid up. He put the flagon away, adjusted the sickly bundle in his arms, and then took off with great speed. Haku watched with astonished eyes as the landscape raced by, and how they rose up and up into the trees of the forest and through the branches and nettle, where the snow had not yet reached.

While returning to Mist, Zabuza briefly tried to justify what he was doing. _'If I do this right, this kid is going to be useful to me in many ways. No one even knows that he __**exists **__at the moment, and if I keep it that way…' _If the boy lived and developed and trained…_'Then I will have the force of the Hyoton at my disposal and quite a powerful shinobi as well…'_

He stopped once, alert to the sound of ninja approaching through the treetops. The silencing effect of the snowfall made every snap and crunch more noticeable in the forest. He kept out of sight for a minute, not wanting to get caught red-handed with Haku. After the Mist nin had moved on, Zabuza continued, contemplating what to do with the boy.

Once he had entered the Mist village Zabuza made sure to avoid other shinobi. He stopped in a restaurant on the outskirts and sat Haku down in a booth. He took a cloth napkin and dried the boy's wet head, wondering if it would make him stop shivering. They ate several orders of barbecue and Haku gradually began to perk up. The kid had a healthy appetite, and he ate until all of the dishes on the table were empty. He didn't ask for any more than what had been provided. He smiled contentedly, thanking Zabuza.

Afterward, as inconspicuously as possible, Zabuza headed to the hospital with his charge. He did not wait in the lobby for very long before the Chief Medic's apprentice, Guo, stopped and asked if they were being helped.

"Take a look at this kid for me, will you?"

Surprise did not fully capture what Guo felt in that moment; it was really bewilderment and disbelief peppered with suspicion, worry, and a bit of approval.

"Well of course, Momochi-san. Right this way…"

Guo kept his alarm to himself. Zabuza stood out like a sore thumb in the hospital. It was probably the first time he had _ever_ stopped by; not to mention that he had a child with him!

Zabuza followed Guo to an examination room and settled Haku down on a cushioned table. The boy slid tiredly from his arms, but he had enough energy to sit up on his own. The medic nin set straight to work, but decided to be careful of the questions he asked, _'From what I can tell, Zabuza doesn't want me to draw attention to this child, or that he __**has **__a child in his care…'_

"Okay, so what's your name, kiddo?"

"Haku."

"And your family name?"

"It's just Haku."

"Ah," Guo scribbled down a few things on the clipboard his boss often used, "That's okay, no problem…Haku…"

The medic glanced over to Zabuza who was watching him with venomous eyes.

"A-herm!" Guo cleared his throat a bit, "For the record, what I am writing down is only going to help me evaluate Haku. None of this is going to be kept on file because, well, you have not indicated to me that he should be…_recognized _by this hospital…am I correct?"

"Very correct."

"Just checking…" Guo muttered, turning back to Haku, "Alright little guy, follow the light please." He waved a small pocket flashlight in front of the boy's eyes, which were healthy and keen, "Good! Now open up and say _ahh, _just for a second…there we go! Okay…"

Zabuza stood off to the side of his room, his arms folded, and he watched as Guo ran various tests; blood pressure, reflexes, and hearing looked to be intact.

"I take it you don't want me to collect a blood sample, do you?"

"No."

"I thought so, but Momochi-san you should be aware that I can check for several serious diseases in only a few-"

"You're not taking his blood." Zabuza said simply, _'Like hell he is…then he'd check for anything he has in common with bloodline trait families or some other tipoff…'_

"Alright, alright…" Guo shrugged it off, continuing with other simple tests.

Haku complied politely and watched interestedly as the medic recorded information.

"What are you doing, mister?"

"I'm just evaluating how healthy you are right now, Haku."

"So you're a doctor?"

"Yes, I am. I'm a medic-nin actually, so my patients are typically shinobi." He smiled, "And I get the feeling you are going to be one someday…"

Zabuza growled from his place by the wall. Guo took the hint.

"Well…Haku is malnourished and has a weak immune system." Guo reported at length, pulling the sheet from the clipboard. He crumpled it and threw it in the trash-bin before adding, "However his teeth are coming in perfectly for an 8-year-old, and his eyesight and hearing are quite sharp. He doesn't _seem _to have any serious illnesses, but I recommend that you get him checked later to be sure."

"Sure."

That was a good sign. Zabuza would indeed confirm whether or not the boy had any life-threatening condition; he just didn't want the hospital to be aware of it.

Guo riffled around through a cupboard in the room and huffed in aggravation. He asked Zabuza to wait before he exited the room. He returned a few beats later and handed a plastic container to Zabuza, "These are vitamins; he could really use these. They will help him catch up to the nutrition level he needs."

Zabuza gave a slight nod.

"And I would suggest bathing him too…"

He received a glare for that comment, so once again he swallowed his opinions. Guo knew better than to ask where the child came from (he would guess kidnapping before parenthood, Haku was just too…_delicate_), and he also knew that divulging any information about what had just happened would incite Zabuza to gank him.

Guo assured Zabuza that he would not speak of their encounter, and expressed how glad he was that Zabuza was looking after Haku, _'It was good that he brought the boy here. Haku wouldn't have been able to recover as quickly on rest and meals alone…'_

The swordsman felt there was no need to threaten Guo. The medic already understood the implications of possessing such sensitive information. He did not thank Guo, but Haku did with a sweet face, "Thank you, mister!" and in a blink the two made their way out.

Guo stood in the doorway of the examination room, tapping the clipboard anxiously over his head. He got the feeling that the boy possibly had some special ability, because it was not likely Zabuza would pick up a youngster who would not pull his own weight someday. Being prohibited from taking Haku's blood also supported his theory.

'_Oh man…I really feel like I should tell someone…Kuina-sempai can keep this low-profile, I bet.'_

* * *

It was a surreal feeling to watch the small boy walk around his apartment. Haku looked around curiously, noting the many differences between the new place and his former residence.

"So you live here, Zabuza-san?"

"For now, yeah." Zabuza opened the jar of vitamins, "Here, hold out your hand."

Haku held his hand palm up and Zabuza dropped a chalky tablet into it. "Chew and swallow that." The man said, "You're going to need a lot of these to get back on track."

"These are going to help me get better?" Haku inspected the capsule before popping it into his mouth. He made short work of it, and then asked, "Should I have another later?"

"Yeah, just don't overdo it. Come over here." Zabuza lead the way to the bathroom. It was unadorned but at least it was clean. Haku stepped into it and marveled at the tiles and mirror. He had only ever used an outhouse. A towel, a washcloth and a bar of soap were fetched from the closet and set aside for the boy.

"You know how to bathe yourself?"

"Of course I can!" This elicited a smile from the boy, as if Zabuza had asked a silly question.

Just by watching Haku, Zabuza got an idea of how intellectually advanced he was for a child. He may have lived on a farm up until now, but he was a quick thinker. After studying the knobs in the shower for a few moments, the boy worked it out, and it turned on without difficulty. Seeing that Haku could function well enough on his own, Zabuza went to his bedroom.

It was still dawning on him how unusual the situation was. _'If this kid lives, and he's better adapted to do that than most kids his age, I'll be training him for years.' _Zabuza thought, _'Living in Mist is going to become a problem. I won't register him. If I did, the Mizukage would turn him into another loyalist minion…'_

It was hard enough sneaking around so that no one would notice Haku, but trying to live within the village was going to become dangerous. He was going to have to come up with a solution soon.

He retrieved a large, baggy t-shirt from a chest of drawers. This would have to do until he could get his hands on new clothing for Haku. After the boy had washed up, he put the shirt on and took a seat on the couch where Zabuza told him to wait.

Zabuza ventured out, trying to remember where people would typically by clothes. On the main avenue there was a family clothing store that kept its _open_ sign in the window despite the poor economy. When he entered, the shopkeeper looked up from behind the register and gulped in fright. He stared down at his magazine, hoping that if he ignored the shinobi that he would eventually leave. Zabuza stalked about the rows of clothing, resembling a shark in a pond of fish.

He picked up several outfits that were simple and suitable for the boy's training. Thoughtful, he also picked up a bag and shoes for Haku. He was not going to bother paying for anything. Not harming the store owner was going to be payment enough. The terrified man kept his face hidden behind the magazine as Zabuza made his way out.

When he returned, Haku happily accepted the new clothing, "Thank you, Zabuza-san!"

Zabuza thought little of it. It was a simple necessity that Haku would eventually take care of himself. Haku left to change, and reappeared dressed in a blue gi and black pants. He had put the other clothes away in the backpack he was given. His hair was clean and brushed, and he at last looked as presentable as he probably did before his homelessness.

It was then Zabuza noticed it.

Haku's dark hair framed his face down to his shoulders. His intelligent eyes were honey-brown and scanned each new environment effectively. Alabaster skin and a refined demeanor, despite an agricultural upbringing…he was the stereotypical Yuki. Zabuza had known that Kamisori had always looked more like his mother, a Kaguya: white-haired and mismatched.

Haku took after the true noble-blood of the clan, similar to how Lord Jinsong and the prince looked. Not that Zabuza had seen any of them in person, but the records of Yuki targets in the rebel bingo book had photographs to which Haku bore a striking resemblance. Accordingly, keeping Haku away from Mist shinobi was imperative, lest they mistake him for a Yuki rebel.

The boy set his bag down on the couch where Zabuza sat. He then went to the kitchen, pulled a chair from the table up to the counter, and stood on it to reach the sink. Without needing to be asked, he began to wash dirty dishes. Not sure what to make of the strange behavior, Zabuza spoke up, "Stop that."

Haku turned and looked back at the man, puzzled, "They were here so I thought-"

"No. Unless I ask you to do something, you don't need to do anything." Zabuza informed him. Working on a farm must have meant Haku as often kept busy. Such a trait probably wasn't a bad thing, but it was unnecessary while his health was currently compromised.

Haku nodded and set the dishes back down, and moved the chair to its original place. He did pick up a newspaper on the table and ask, "May I read this?"

The man quirked an eyebrow, not having expected Haku to be able to read, "Sure."

Haku sat at the table and settled down, glancing over the pages. He propped up his chin on his hands while he read quietly. _'I don't know if I was even able to read at his age.' _Zabuza thought, acknowledging how his education had been delayed in favor of survival. Few kids these days could read if they had not studied at the Academy first. It would absolutely be worthwhile to train Haku, knowing how bright he was.

Now he had to think about food. He would need to start keeping some around the place to make sure the kid was few while he was gone. He would need a place to sleep too, _'I need to find a place to train him that won't attract any attention…'_

"Zabuza-san?" Haku was looking up from the paper.

"What?"

"Will I get into trouble now that I'm in the Mist Village?" The boy must have picked up on Zabuza not wanting him to be seen.

"If you do as I say no harm will come to you."

"But my father…he told other people about me before he…tried to kill me…" Haku's voice quivered, "And I…won't I be punished for what I did?"

He knew all too well about the persecution of people with Kekkei Genkai. Even if he didn't understand why it was such a problem, he had already bore the brunt of senseless violence.

"No, that's not gonna happen." Zabuza looked over to Haku, "What you did is something the rebels will be blamed for. No one is going to suspect you."

Haku looked uncertain. He still did not grasp that he was the least of Mist's problems at the moment.

The man sighed, "Let me tell you how things work around here…"

* * *

_**Note: **__That's all for now! Zabuza's perspective on taking Haku is not as mechanical and "tool" oriented in this case. It just seems more realistic that a shinobi places priority on keeping the kid alive first, then train later. Dead tools just don't work. Please review and enjoy the summer! I will return after studying in Spain for a few months, so please forgive the wait._


	9. Atypical love

Zabuza awoke. Slowly he sat up in bed, groggy with sleep and stiffness. Beyond the eastward-facing window of his bedroom were the dim silhouettes of buildings, barely visible in the predawn hours.

He groaned lowly and rubbed his face from forehead to chin with rough hands. A hint of stubble was forming along his jaw. Oh...he had dreamed something very farfetched.

Atop the chest of drawers beside the bed sat the bottle of vitamins he had gotten for Haku at the hospital. His eyes widened just a fraction, processing the information. Well then. It had not been a dream. Haku was truly with him. The responsibility was real.

After a few moments his eyes adjusted to the dark and Zabuza stood, picked up the bottle of tablets, and then proceeded with drooping shoulders and a dry mouth to the kitchen.

He passed through the living area into the dinette and filled a glass with water at the sink. He gulped it down and then refilled it. In silence he looked over to Haku on the couch, who was still slumbering.

The boy was curled into a ball beneath a blanket and had a throw pillow nestled beneath his cheek. He had been desperate for sleep the day before; Haku had tired soon after getting settled in Zabuza's apartment. He made a space for himself on the couch, a bit incredulously at first (he had never seen one before) and then promptly passed out. Zabuza imagined it was the first time he had ever been able to sleep comfortably.

His eyes lingered on Haku for a while. He was unsure of how to feel about the boy, or about the precarious situation of raising and training a child in secret within the village. It would be a challenge, but if Haku lived up to the potential Zabuza had seen in him, the risk would have been worth taking.

Zabuza was still too exhausted to contemplate it. He gulped down his water again and refilled the glass for the last time. He set the vitamin bottle down on the kitchen table and then returned to his bedroom.

When he woke next the sun had crept over the horizon.

He found Haku wide awake, sweeping the cheap, laminate-wood floors in the living area. Having lived his life on a farm it was only natural for him to wake up at dawn. Haku went about his task diligently, with short, practiced strokes. Zabuza, nonplused, looked over to the windows where a rag and bottle of cleaner he never knew he owned sat on the sill. The glass was clean and light was pouring into the room. It was the first recorded instance of maintenance his apartment had ever known.

"Stop," Zabuza commanded, gesturing to what Haku was doing, "Just stop now."

Haku looked up brightly, "Good morning, Zabuza-san!"

"Uh, yeah, morning…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I thought it would be good to clean this place up." Haku said, "Its condition was what my mother would call…unacceptable."

"That's how men usually live, kid. You are going to need to get used to it."

Haku frowned, "You have a nice home, Zabuza-san. Why not take care of it?"

'_**This **__place is hardly the nicest apartment in Mist.' _Zabuza did not speak the comment aloud, _'It's a shit heap and I would never waste time on it. I mean, what happens when you polish a turd? You can make it shine, but you still have a turd.' _Still, this was not a sentiment a hard-working, appreciative, eight-year-old who had lived on a dingy farm would agree with.

"You finish up then," Zabuza conceded, acknowledging there was not a shred of harm in letting the boy clean, "I'll make us something to eat."

Haku smiled and then resumed his task. Making low, grumbling sounds of sleepiness, Zabuza stooped down and opened the refrigerator. Hot sauce and other condiments sat dejectedly on a shelf, and below was a carton of eggs, half-full, but decently fresh; the remainder of the fridge was bare. Zabuza retrieved the eggs while recalling how he had intended to get food earlier…he had just been side-tracked. Now more than ever he would have to keep food around: there was another, hungrier mouth to feed.

An old coffee-maker wheezed out a pot of coffee from old grinds. The strong aroma gradually began to revive him. He stood over the stove frying the eggs, watching curiously from the corner of his eye as Haku flitted about.

Haku was not afraid to dive into cabinets and drawers to find things. Zabuza recalled the farm house that he had investigated, and how it had been sparsely furnished (not to mention _destroyed_). Haku would be sure to turn to the entire apartment upside-down before he was satisfactorily acquainted with it. He put away the items he was done with, scooped up the considerable pile of dirt and rubbish, and threw it away in the trash can- which he had also managed to locate. Sometimes even Zabuza forgot where it was.

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That smell! It's…" Haku inhaled and closed his eyes in an effort to identify it, "It is very strong. I've never smelled anything like it…"

"Too bad, I use this stuff to get my heart going every day. I'd probably keel over without it." Zabuza noted how his sarcasm was lost on the boy, "It's called coffee. Your parents never had it around?"

"No." There was a twinge of pain on Haku's face as he thought of his late parents, "No, nothing like that. Is it a hot drink?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, we never had _coffee_…but we had tea."

"I'll get tea for you later then; I don't have diddly-shit in this place at the moment. I also doubt you'd like coffee."

Haku stood beside Zabuza, listening to the eggs popping and hissing in the pan. It reminded him of home, or rather, what home had once been like. He stared up at the tall young man who had saved his life, regarding him quite fondly.

Zabuza noticed this innocent violation of his personal space and glanced down at Haku, "What?"

"I'll try some."

This actually made him laugh, "Huh, really? You know you can't add anything to it? I've got nothing, I just drink it straight."

"I don't put anything in my tea though."

"This is definitely not tea, kid."

"I'll still try."

Another amused chuckle escaped him. What a small pleasure this would be to watch a naïve kid get a mouthful of the bitter slop that was his equivalent of a liquid defibrillator. It would most likely make his day. Zabuza had never spent much time with children, _period, _but he had to admit he was going to look forward to seeing Haku's face once he took a sip.

Zabuza turned the gas off on the stove, "Alright, go sit down." Haku promptly took a seat at the table and his tall companion scrounged around for two mugs in a high cabinet. He filled one cup with coffee and tipped a small amount into the other. He gave Haku the test-portion, "Try that out." He stood and watched.

Haku held the mug with both hands and took a tentative sip. Zabuza could have set a watch by the boy's well-timed reaction. Haku's eyebrows shot up in alarm towards his hairline and his lips puckered, struggling not to spit out what he had drank. He swallowed audibly and opened his mouth, as if letting air in would remove the pungent taste.

Thankfully, Zabuza slid a plate of fried egg in front of Haku, and the boy was patient enough to be given chopsticks before cramming the food in his mouth. It mercifully absorbed the taste of the coffee.

"You didn't like it then?"

Haku looked sheepish, "No, I didn't. But how can you?"

"I don't mind admitting that I am desensitized to a lot of things, and taste is one of them." He proceeded to drink his coffee, sliding the last of the egg onto his own plate.

"What does…_de-sense-i-tized_ mean?"

Zabuza sat down and gave Haku a measured look. _'He's a thinker, this one.'_

"It means that I am not sensitive to things, that I'm not bothered."

"Ah." Haku nodded, continuing to eat.

Zabuza passed the bottle of vitamins to his charge, "While I'm thinking about it: here."

"I would have remembered on my own, Zabuza-san. Thank you though." Haku obediently took a tablet and chewed it down quickly.

As he had with all the other food that had been pushed in front of him, Haku wolfed down his eggs. Zabuza had drenched his breakfast in a swamp of hot sauce, and Haku waited patiently for him to be finished before he asked for permission to be excused.

"You can leave the table whenever you want." Zabuza told him.

Haku nodded and then put his dish in the sink. Zabuza watched as the boy left the dinette and turned to the hallway, curious, and then poked into Zabuza's bedroom.

"I didn't say you could go into my room."

"Well, you don't say much until I ask first, Zabuza-san." Haku pointed out innocently. "Am I not free to do whatever I want?"

The man grunted. Maybe this kid was a little too smart for his own good…

"You are free to do what **I **tell you to do."

"May I please look around then?"

He really, really wanted to say no just to exercise the right, but concluded that there was really no mischief Haku could possibly get up to. He gave the boy a clipped "Yeah" and then continued eating. Haku proceeded into the room, quietly inspecting the new area.

The kid had personality alright. He was bright, hard-working, opportunistic, polite… It was not a disagreeable disposition compared to others, but there was a chance Haku could become willful: accustomed to getting his way. He would need to begin training the boy as soon as possible- squash any hint of self-centeredness or dissent. The sooner he instilled discipline in the boy, the better. His Hyoton would be an incredibly useful tool if developed properly…but it was a strange thing to begin training someone so young. He wasn't even of gennin age; the basic training and knowledge that trainees were "pre-loaded" with, Haku lacked. With that in mind, he was still confident that Haku would rocket past those fundamental levels once he was taught what he needed to know.

Zabuza finished his food and coffee and then cleaned up. For now, Haku would need to sit tight. There was nowhere to go; nowhere safe to train…he would have to be holed up in the apartment until further notice. Zabuza needed to get an idea of the upcoming missions scheduled before he could make any concrete decisions about his charge. He went to his room to see what Haku was up to.

The boy was seated in a chair beside an inadequately stocked bookshelf. Haku had a book in his lap, and on top of that he had cracked open a medium-sized training manual. Nearly all of the books were second-hand and of an adult reading-level. _'So he's one of those kids…'_

Haku looked up and smiled, "Zabuza-san, I hope you don't mind if I read these…"

"I don't." Zabuza crossed over to the shelf. He began to pull out which books he believed to be appropriate, though few they were: training manuals, history books, old literature and legends…

He set the pile down on a small desk, "I'm not sure if you'll be able to comprehend much of this stuff, but it's worth a shot. You'll have to keep yourself occupied with these until I get back."

"Where are you going, Zabuza-san?"

"I need to report to the Mizukage to find out if I have been assigned to any missions." He said, pulling a roll of bandage-tape out of a drawer, "If that's the case, I may not be back until late...but the old buzzard probably won't send me anywhere today. Most likely I will return this afternoon and I'll bring food. You are not to set foot outside of this apartment, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good."

Zabuza quickly dressed in dark clothing and then pulled on his flak vest. He noticed as he began to wrap up his neck and face with the tape that Haku was watching him again. He went about his task in silence and then retrieved scrolls and shoes.

"Do you often cover your face, Zabuza-san?"

"Yeah, many shinobi do."

Haku nodded, thoughtful, and then gathered up the books he planned to read. He exited the room alongside Zabuza and then settled at the table with his reading material.

"Goodbye, Zabuza-san."

"Later." The man replied, reflecting on how he had never really said that to anyone before. He left through the door deep in thought.

* * *

His predictions had proven to be correct. All Kyonjin asked him to do today was be one of the witnesses in the signing of an, in his opinion, extremely shady document. It solidified the control of one of Kyonjin's great allies outside of the village who worked against the rebels: a huge, well-organized, drug cartel.

Zabuza never paid mind to the drug cartels that were gaining notoriety throughout the countryside, but it did not feel right to him to support a drug king-pin, no matter how loyal he claimed to be to Mist's cause, _'It's got to be one of the easiest ways to get your ass killed.'_

But of course, he kept his criticism to himself and let the Mizukage do what he thought was best, which was usually the polar opposite.

"Very good," Kyonjin sighed, leaning back in his desk chair, "With that settled," He turned his gaze to Zabuza, "I want you to lead a reconnaissance group to the northern region of the island, near an inn called the _Old Grotto, _it appears we now have to deal with other villages."

"Which village?"

"I have a report here claiming that Leaf shinobi have been spying in an attempt to gather information on what has been going on in Mist," The Mizukage smirked, "I would like to personally meet this group of nosy Leaf ninja. I expect them to be captured alive and in relatively good condition for questioning. I will speak to the rest of your team later and provide you with details."

"Understood."

"You leave at dawn. Dismissed."

Zabuza turned to leave and was nearly out of the office when Kyonjin made a start, "Zabuza?"

He faced the Mizukage again and was able to stomach his response, "Yes, sir?"

Kyonjin wore a small smile, "This is the first time in a while I have seen you without Kubakiri Houcho."

"I left it at home."

"So you did…even though you were aware that I had summoned you and may have a task for you? That is a gamble isn't it?"

"With all due respect," Zabuza nearly bit his tongue off saying the words, "At the last meeting you indicated that you would not be assigning me missions for a while. You said nothing previously about dispatching me, so I didn't take it."

The Mizukage was less pleased with this reply, "Ah, I understand…I did say that, I know. However…I would like to make it clear that I do not at all approve of you keeping that blade in the Master Scroll."

Zabuza merely stared at him. In his mind he weighed his chances of summoning the Seversword just to piss him off, and then complicate things further by beheading him. Such a thing would definitely have a low approval rating in Mist right about now, but oh…how badly he wished he could do it.

"You see, I acknowledge that the majority of the _former _swordsmen serve the interests of the Mist village now," Kyonjin said, scrounging around for a cigarette, "Yet the keeper of the Master Scroll is a known enemy of Mist," He was implying Mangetsu, who by no means had allied himself with the rebel forces, but was still a dangerous outsider, "So I must insist that you keep your weapon on hand, is that clear?"

"Understood." He would have preferred to have said, _Fuck off._

It was not a thoughtful gesture, but before Kyonjin could say another word Zabuza about-faced and left the office.

* * *

He got the feeling he was scaring the daylights out of everyone who was in the market, but Zabuza could not help it; he was horrendously pissed off. There was once a time when the village leader would not _dare_ tell a swordsman what to do with or where to keep his blade, but now…they had become sell-outs who "yes-ed" the man to death. It was pathetic.

Zabuza had left the administration building and gone straight to the market, where some of the vendors were still selling goods outside despite the colder temperature.

He was able to concentrate on Haku again, and he figured he needed to buy "healthy" foods to get the kid growing. Haku was absolutely puny in physical terms, and Zabuza was not sure if it could be remedied by a proper diet. Still, he had plenty of money and the opportunity to buy very over-priced food.

His mood improved incrementally as he wandered down the aisles of produce, picking up fruits and vegetables that he had hardly ever touched in his life. He ended up gravitating back towards meat and spicy foods a short time later, which he always preferred.

A few stands away Zabuza noticed his old comrade, Kamisori, examining expensive wines. He had that woman with him, the Chief Medic, and the two were smiling and engaging in pleasantries. _'Well it seems he's finally moved on to better things…scoring a woman who the Mizukage more or less __**owns.**__'_

But it must have been more than that. They were standing very close together, conversing and laughing. Kamisori contentedly wrapped an arm around her, looked into the small woman's eyes and spoke tenderly as if…as if…

'_He's totally whipped!' _It was a bit of a shock. Kamisori hadn't won that woman at all- she had gotten **him** on a chain, and she was tugging it down to the market and who _knew _where else!

Zabuza had never considered Kamisori a pushover, not in the way Raiga had been a total pussy…but now he seemed a pitiful shadow of his former self. In the past, Kamisori frequently hacked his enemies to pieces in battle, stitched the loose body parts together and then hung them throughout the forest- just to scare off enemies.

Now he was obviously sick with love, consumed by this woman who Zabuza had frankly never known had existed as a competent shinobi until he had seen her seal the Six-Tails.

Zabuza went about purchasing all of the food he had picked up, unwilling to stick around any longer. _'There goes another,' _He thought, considering the current generation of Swordsmen, _'All soft, all settled down…Shon was, then Higashikuni, now this one…' _It made him nauseous, _'The generation before ours was so much stronger…Ringo and Kuriarare made Raiga and Kamisori look like amateurs…'_

He stalked away from the market with two enormous bags packed with food, stuck in his contemplation, _'In spite of all that…this weaker generation can boast something that our predecessors can't…we're still alive.'_

"Zabuza!"

'_Ugh, that voice…' _He looked to his left and saw an enormous hulk of a man whose facial hair looked truly out-of-control.

"Higashikuni." Zabuza acknowledged the fellow swordsman, though he had hoped he could avoid human contact just for a little while…if fate would be kind.

The giant happily clapped Zabuza on the shoulder, nearly toppling him over, and then laughed, "How have you been, kid? The last time I saw you, you were a foot shorter!"

"Yeah…it's been a while." Zabuza confirmed, and then looked down in confusion to see a tiny boy standing beside Higashikuni. He had the same shade of blue hair and sharp-edged teeth that were widely heritable in the Land of Water. He adjusted his glasses as he looked back up at Zabuza with a small smile.

"Have you met Chojuro?" Higashikuni seemed thrilled to introduce the boy, "Son, this is Zabuza-san, he wields the Seversword."

"Nice to meet you, Zabuza-san." His voice was small, babyish and sincere. He had to be less than half the age of Haku, by his estimate. He looked _new._

Zabuza looked to the man, incredulous, "You had a kid?"

"Yes, that sometimes happens when you're married." Higashikuni chuckled, placing his hands proudly on his hips, "My little Chojuro is going to wield _Shibuki_ someday, and later _Hiramekarei _if Mangetsu will permit it. I'll train him myself!"

"That's good…just be sure you survive this war. You're always out on the front lines."

"You know me…" He grinned darkly, "I'm the reason those rebels flee, after all. Those battlegrounds are my bitch."

What was he thinking? It was often said that Higashikuni could lay even Kisame flat on his ass if he wanted to. He was hands-down the strongestof _this_ generation, but with a soft heart. _'And crazy…that never changed.'_

"I can see you've been thinking a lot, Zabuza." Higashikuni lowered his voice, "You have that _plotting _look. I like it. If you ever get up to something, let me know…I'm more than happy to help."

"Sure. I'll remember that." Zabuza sighed, proceeding with his bags, "I've got to go. I've got a kid to feed too."

Higashikuni looked startled, but after a moment took it for a joke, and then had a hard fit of laughter as Zabuza walked away.

* * *

"You're getting married…" Sashayma sighed happily, "It's about time! Well I mean, you've always been a catch…but men around here are not usually up to taking the plunge. Though I have to say that your Kamisori did propose a bit quickly…"

"I have to agree with you on that one." Kuina replied, doing a quarter-turn in front of a department store mirror, "I've been with him for less than a year…and maybe I ought to wait, but during a war…"

Sadness flickered across her friend's face, "I know…nothing is for certain, least of all survival."

Kuina shook her head, "Come on, no more sad talk between us today, alright? We're hanging out just like the old days. Kamisori and I are happy together and we're leaving it at that. But for now, it's just you and me, Sashayma."

The ginger-haired girl smiled, "Yes, of course. Nago always loved doing this sort of thing. Oh, Kuina, no," She frowned, "Take that red one off and try the blue dress again…red just doesn't suit you."

Kuina did another spin and huffed, "Darn, I guess you have a point there. My complexion's paler than most of my sick patients…"

Sashayma laughed, sliding the curtain back in place so her friend could change in peace. She returned to her changing stall across the way, "I'm trying on another too. Maybe I'll find something flattering for a flat-chested girl…"

It was a bizarre affair shopping for clothes nowadays. The people of Mist were so tight on cash that most stores were empty, and what few well-paid shinobi (kunoichi specifically) stopped by to try things on usually heard their voices echo throughout the building. Predictably, they were the only visitors for today.

Kuina had been a bit intimidated when Kamisori had asked her to relocate to his home, yet she had still accepted on the basis that if they were married they could use the extra space. Still, it was frightening to empty out her apartment- watch her life be packed into a few boxes and send her furniture and other belongings out to friends and the needy. Sashayma had been helping her with the process while Kamisori was away, but eventually Kuina had demanded a break.

They resorted to an old pastime that was by no means thrifty, but always uplifting.

There was a long silence that was dotted with the clicking of hangers and rustling of fabric. Kuina slid into a strapless, sparkling navy number that stopped mid-thigh. She looked at herself in the mirror as she stepped into a pair of heels that she had already convinced herself not to buy. _'How weird is it…' _She thought, _'It's just so weird…that I've never once dressed up for Kamisori. It's always been practical attire or scrubs…or naked. I haven't looked __**sexy **__for him so far, I haven't tried…but he wants to marry me.' _She smiled to herself, _'It's gotta be my personality.'_

She slid back the curtain, "Sashayma, is this the one you recommended earlier?"

Sashayma peeked out, redressed in a bronze tunic that was, as always, a bit too skimpy. The girl grinned, "Ah yes…that is indeed the one. Get that and then all of the lingerie I picked out for you…and the shoes, keep those…"

"Uh, I don't think I ought to-"

"Kuina, I'm not asking you," Her friend said, "I'm **telling** you. You're getting _married_. He already loves you and thinks you're beautiful, but the _fun_ part is ambushing your man with little pieces of fabric that punch his imagination into overdrive. Drive him nuts, okay? _Get them._"

Kuina nodded sheepishly, staring at the carpet, "Al-right then…dress and lacy things it is…"

"And the shoes!"

"Look, I'm the one who has to move all of this to the new place! I'm just making more work for myself."

"Sounds like you're just making more excuses to me…"

"Fine, I'll do it!" Kuina conceded, "And it had better have the effect on him that you claim it will."

"You'll thank me later. Nago would have solidly agreed with me on this one." Sashayma asserted.

Kuina looked at her friend, seeing her face drop a bit, "Are you okay there? Do you want to talk again?"

"No, I'm alright." Sashayma assured her, "I can't keep crying about it anymore. I've probably destroyed my tear ducts by now. After something like this you just have to keep moving, right? I wasn't getting anything done, I wasn't being productive…that's not how Nago wanted me to live, I know. I'm lucky I have friends looking out for me too." She slid the curtain back over with a sad laugh, "I mean, please, once you were done playing dead you stopped by my place and held me for three days. I've stabilized…as much as I can."

"I hope so." Kuina said quietly, moving to change back into her day clothes, "But if you ever need me for anything, just don't hesitate…"

"Thank you, Kuina," Her answer came before a fierce clacking of hangers, "Now let's go, we've finished up here as far as I can tell, and there's a lot more packing to do…"

* * *

The following day the packing process had finally wound down. Nearly all of the furniture (she was quite certain she wouldn't miss) was doled out to neighbors and friends. Kamisori had cleverly stored more breakable objects into a tool-summoning scroll. The rest fit rather snugly into four large boxes. It had confounded Kuina to see how empty the place was…and how easy it had been to cram her home into a small space.

"Well, this just leaves you, Ham," Kuina picked up her hamster, patting him goodbye before returning him to his cage, "Thanks for taking him, Sashayma."

"No problem," The woman smiled broadly, "I've always wanted one that didn't bite, and now I'm getting my wish! And…I could really use a buddy these days."

"I promise I'll see you soon, a few days- tops," She assured her, "If all else fails just come find me at the hospital or ask Guo, he usually knows where I am."

"I sure will." Sashayma said, walking out the door with the hamster cage, "Happy trails, you two…"

She returned her attention to Kamisori and saw him glancing around the place one last time. He appeared lost in thought.

"Are you going to miss it too, Sori?"

"Perhaps a bit…it was a very good place to live." He told her, "To be honest it is in much better condition than my home at the moment."

"You already told me that it needs a good cleaning. I don't think that'll be problem."

"You may change your mind about that once you see the size of the place," He sighed, and then proceeded to make a hand sign, "We'll have adequate help, though."

In a puff of smoke Kamisori produced two clones and immediately Kuina inspected them, amazed by their composition.

"No way! You can make Shadow Clones?" She chirped excitedly, "Oh please show me! That technique would help me in so many situations…"

"I will teach you later, I promise. As it is, I just learned it myself during my last mission..." He admitted.

Each clone took a box for itself, followed by Kuina and Kamisori lifting the remaining two. They exited in reverent silence. Kuina propped her box up between the wall of the corridor and her stomach, and with her free hand, she snapped off the lights and shut the door behind them.

* * *

Kuina was not anticipating how far away Kamisori's home was from the Mist village. It wasn't exactly a _journey, _but it was in a **ridiculous **forest that she was sure barely anyone ever set foot in. To top it off, they were loaded down with her worldly possessions and moving rather slowly as snow began to drift down in a white ballet.

Her boots crunched along the forest floor, and she grumpily acknowledging how the gargantuan, stark-bare redwoods would not provide them any cover from the snowfall. _'At least_ _there's no wind today…then I'd really start to bitch. Even now I'm kind of wishing he made a few more Shadow Clones to carry these boxes…' _

Kamisori, the original, stopped and looked at Kuina, "How are you doing so far?"

"Uh…well, decent, I'd say…"

"Ah, you were starting to look tired. Though I am happy to inform you that we are close by…"

"Good!" She closed her eyes and she inwardly rejoiced, _'Thank God!'_

"We should ascend here; the branches directly over us will take us on a straight path to the Loft." Kamisori eyed her again, seeing displeasure spread across her features, "Shall I take that from you?"

"Please do, I was about to start complaining."

He chuckled and put his box down temporarily to produce another Shadow Clone, "I apologize. I should have given you a better idea of how far it was, or at least offered earlier…"

"You've redeemed yourself, Kamisori." Kuina assured him, waving her now-free hands, "Lead the way."

She followed him up with a chakra-fueled leap. Sure enough, a mid-level branch did lead them along an easterly canopy route, higher and higher to a most peculiar structure.

'_Whoa.' _As they approached she saw a house fit for a noble built around and _into _the trunks and branches of the redwoods. The main building was a rusty color akin to the surrounding tree bark and had a slanting traditional roof…on top of which she swore she saw a fat, white chicken sitting. The bird made a high-pitched, rapid-fire _jum, jum, jum _sound once it spotted them.

She and Kamisori stopped on the veranda of the house, ducking out of the snowfall. Kuina gestured with her thumb up at the roof, "What the heck is that?"

"It's a ptarmigan." He replied, sliding the front door open with a free hand, "It is the summon animal of the Yuki clan, and they are frequently employed to deliver messages."

"So…do you use them?"

"Almost never," He admitted, "However that one stays up there and watches for anyone who gets too close."

Kuina followed Kamisori and his Shadow Clones into the house. "Ah, it's like an alarm, then." She said, thoughtful, "It didn't sound like a chicken to me."

They set the boxes down and Kamisori dispelled his clones. Indoors it was a fraction warmer, and the snowflakes that had settled on their clothing and hair liquidated.

Kuina looked around and gaped. The vast space was fitted with tatami mats and cherry wood floors, hardwood furniture and large windows that poured in wintery light… _'__**Why **__did he want to live with __**me **__within Mist? My place was a speck compared to this!' _The fine china, elegant wall scrolls, delicate paintings, old relics, statues and ceramic pieces, _'Is that a leather couch over in that corner?' _a traditional hearth on one end, and on the other…a huge kitchen with modern appliances.

"Holy…" Kuina walked in a small circle with her mouth agape, "…shit."

"It's far too much for one person." Kamisori sighed, "And I had the feeling it was still too much for **two** people…"

"You could fit the whole village in here, Sori…"

He chuckled and shook his head, "I won't be sending out invitations…" He tapped one of the boxes with his foot, "We should probably leave these here and keep them sealed while we clean…it's a health hazard in here."

Kuina then noticed the thick coat of dust that laid on every surface in the place. She put her hands on her hips and frowned, "Well, I hate to say this…but this project could take _days…_either you got overwhelmed trying to keep up with this place on your own…or you are a terrible slob."

"The former."

"I just can't wrap my head around it…the size of this place _and _the filth…"

"Those aren't the most encouraging words." Kamisori pointed out, "Come with me and I'll show you the house."

The wide open space at the front end of the loft was divided into a kitchen, dining room and living area. Out of curiosity Kuina peeked into the refrigerator and was glad to find that Kamisori had stocked it in advance, _'Good…because if we are tackling this place we'll be trapped here for an eternity, and I'll be damned if I don't have food!'_

Past the living area and through the main corridor Kuina slid doors open as she went by. She counted an even ten bedrooms and four bathrooms, some large and some small, _'What is this? Really, what is this? Some kind of refurbished hotel!'_ She also noted a study, a washroom, a tea room, storage closets, and before she could have her mind blown further she had reached the end of the hallway. The room there had the same style door that all the previous rooms had, but when Kamisori took her inside she was surprised to find the bedroom wasn't _empty_.

It was the largest bedroom, and she quickly judged by the size of the bed and the types of off-white linens on it that Kamisori had indeed settled here. Spacious and conservative; it was understated and he didn't have much in terms of "stuff". A chest of drawers, a dresser, a closet, a desk, a display for weaponry, a few loose items, mellow artwork on the walls…_ 'And plenty of dust in here too…' _It had not been used frequently, but by gosh would he use that bed once he got _her _in it, and Kuina grinned to herself, thinking of the possibilities.

"You'll be staying in here with me." He told her, inclining his head towards the large closet behind her, "I am quite certain all of your belongings can be amply stored here."

"Why? Because I'm a pauper who boxed up her meager dowry to bring to your treetop palace?"

"No…" Kamisori was a bit irked, "I don't have much myself. It has _nothing _to do with status, Kuina, I just mean that we can coexist here with plenty of space."

To drive the point home he opened the closet which was, huh, surprise, a walk-in. His clothing barely ventured past the first dividing shelf of about a dozen. Kuina was taken aback, _'There, I did it again…I judged him too quickly, assuming he was a snobbish rich guy…when he's really kind of a minimalist.'_

"Well it is pretty strange that a man like you who lives so…modestly…would own such a magnificent home. I'm sorry; I guess I'm a bit intimidated by this place." Kuina said, trying to save face, "But if you don't mind my asking, how _did _you come to live here?"

"I'll give you the short answer," He relaxed a bit, venturing back into the hallway, "This place was once occupied by a wealthy drug lord. Back when I first became a jounin I crossed paths with him and his lackeys and I eradicated them." Kamisori stopped at the hallway closet and began to retrieve cleaning supplies, "So I kept the spoils for myself."

"Oh." She really was satisfied with that answer; because she feared he may have been born-into-privilege or some garbage like that, "I imagine no one really knows about this place then?"

He thought about it for a moment, "Yes and no."

Her face was quizzical.

"Some of my friends know that I live here, but the Yuki clan does not and no one in Mist knows either." Kamisori told her, handing her some rags, "It's the only thing that has really been mine. You may believe that just because I hail from a well-to-do clan means that I had nice things…but that is not the case."

She nodded; finally clear on the situation, "I got it."

They commenced, beginning with their bedroom and then they opened every window possible, hoping for fresh air as dust began to fly. Maneuvering down the hallway they wiped off nearly every surface, probing each room (although the bathrooms were in impeccably good shape to start) and after a while stopped, tying fabric around their faces to keep the dust at bay. When time really began to drag on Kuina turned to Kamisori, languishing, "Aren't those Shadow Clones good for something? Come on…this place is a fortress…"

He complied, sending three clones into different areas of the house to help out. After a few hours' time Kuina stripped the bed and put the linens through the washing machine, not willing to risk sleeping in dust which she was really beginning to loathe. They had made significant progress by sunset, and they stopped again to have dinner. Kamisori's clones continued to work diligently while they relaxed.

Together they filled dough with meat and spices for dumplings and Kuina darted about, quickly learning where everything was kept in the kitchen cupboards. A beep in the distance drew her attention, "Oh, I'll go get that. It'll just take a second."

"Take your time, I can finish these up."

She had successfully dried the linens, and while she stood over the dryer folding a sheet she mused about her new home, _'My commute to work is going to be a bit longer…but I know I'll get used to it here…it's just…I come from such humble beginnings. Dad used to live in a shack and now I've worked my way up to great things…' _Of course she acknowledged her father had a nice home to live in now, but life had been hard when she was young. _'I appreciate everything I get…and I don't know if Kamisori understands just how overwhelmed and thankful I am.'_

A Shadow Clone approached her from behind, leaning down to speak quietly in her ear, "Kuina, let me help you with that."

"Nah, it's fine, thanks. Go find some more expensive hardwood floor to polish, Mr. Fancy-house."

Then she felt arms wrap around her middle and warm lips kiss the pulsing point on her neck. Her hands froze, losing a corner that she had just lined up in order to fold the blanket. She made a small sound, voicing her approval of the loving touch. But then she felt herself being bent over and pressed against the dryer, _'What the-!' _and though it was Kamisori making motions to do something naughty to her during laundry time it was **still **a _clone_ and very, very strange.

She twisted around and flung the blanket in the Shadow Clone Kamisori's face, "Here you go! Keep busy! I'm gonna go have dinner now…" And she swiftly bustled down the corridor with her cheeks blazing red.

Her real man was already at the table spreading out the first batch of boiled dumplings. Awkwardly straight-legged and embarrassed, Kuina walked over to the dining area and sat down. Kamisori looked at her curiously from across the table, "Are you alright, Kuina?"

"I, uh…oh…gosh," She sighed heavily, and then poured herself some green tea, "Honestly, I am somewhere between turned on and horrified."

"All while doing laundry?" He observed, somewhat concerned.

"One of your clones came by and started…you know…" Kuina gestured spastically with her hands, "He tried to have his…its…way with me! I don't know!"

Kamisori stared at her for a minute before a smile spread on his face, "Now…that _is _an idea, isn't it?"

"No! I wasn't going to do anything! It's just creepy…" Kuina helped herself to some dumplings, "And would _you _condone such a thing?"

"It'd still be _me._"

"It would be a **replica **of you."

He shrugged, "Well if it bothers you I will keep them away from you. Though _I _don't see harm in you enjoying yourself with a chakra-infused entity that is merely an extension of myself. No harm would come to you."

Kuina crammed food in her mouth and chewed indignantly, _'It's still bizarre!'_

Kamisori looked at her and began to laugh.

"What?"

"I'm just…so glad that you're here with me."

Her eyes brightened. She finished inhaling her food and smiled, "Me too. I really like it here. I guess I was initially stunned by the size of this place-"

"There's still more to see-"

"_Don't_ interrupt me! But yes, I want to make this my home as well." Kuina continued, "I do have one request, though."

"Anything you like."

"I want you to come meet my father, so he can meet you before we get married." She said, adding, "I know we aren't looking for approval or anything…but I know he would like you."

"Of course," He didn't hesitate to agree to it, "It would be an honor to meet your father."

Relieved, she smiled again, taking one last dumpling. In that moment, the mischievous Shadow Clone walked by and gave her a suggestive glance. "Finished. I'm off to find some expensive hardwood floors now." It said with a hint of sass, annoyed over being jilted earlier.

Humiliated, Kuina covered her face with her hands as Kamisori threw his head back and laughed.

* * *

The night sky was dark with motionless clouds overhead, dropping a silent sheet of snow on the earth. Two dark figures trekked through the rugged countryside. Here in the outskirts of the Land of Water the weather was much harsher and civilization was scarce. The two stopped along the chiseled face of a rocky hill and squeezed into a cave to take shelter.

"Watch your step in here, Kimimaro. Ah, I've never been much good at picking out a decent cave…"

"This will do." The boy said, shaking snow from his jacket.

Shon dropped a pile of semi-dry wood and pine twigs on the floor. He produced a bone-pick from his arm and hastily dug out a pit, "_Buh_…I am chilled to the bone…though bear in mind that's just an expression, my young friend…aren't you cold?"

Kimimaro, a bit ashamedly, nodded his head.

"Go into my pack then and take the blanket. You're a skinny thing _and _you have less clothing on than I do. We'll have to fix that soon…" Shon observed. He began arranging the wood and kindling in the pit, watching as the small boy tugged open the travel bag and retrieved a rolled, wool blanket.

Shon lit the kindling with a match and then blew gently to get the flame to catch. He beckoned Kimimaro over, "Come on, you try. You'll need to do this yourself if you are caught off-guard in the wild sometime." Kimimaro's breath was a bit too forceful, and scattered a spray of tiny embers, "Whoa, child, gentler please…there you go."

Kimimaro settled beside Shon and tossed a part of the blanket over the man's folded legs. It had been a long day. The snow had been persistent even from the morning hours, plodding down on them as they travelled. Kimimaro had not liked Shon's training that day either; his joints were so stiff and cold he felt as though he had no fight in him.

"Many people, even most shinobi, are used to staying indoors during the winter months." Shon explained, looking down at his young companion, "Our clan was no exception. Usually winter acts as a mock cease-fire during times of strife. Nowadays that is **not **the case…"

"It is difficult fighting in these temperatures."

"I know, and you will need to get used to it. Imagine if we lived in the _Land of Snow, _then we would have no excuse if we wanted to call ourselves shinobi."

Kimimaro nodded glumly, staring into the fire.

"Rebel forces take advantage of the Mist Village's slow movements during the winter…" Shon went on, "We need to be careful not to get mixed up in their business. The Yuki clan is famous for ambushing squads during blizzards…some of which they create themselves. We must always be watchful and keep moving. You will need to teach your body to cooperate so you can run and fight in the cold."

"I understand."

Shon pulled the blanket away from his legs and draped it over the boy for warmth, "I know it's hard, but you'll just have to do as I say. It's the only way we'll survive."

Kimimaro pulled the blanket up to his face and sighed. He laid back against the cave wall and tried to relax. He missed having a bed. He missed having food and shelter. He missed the _security _that his clan, no matter how rotten they had been, had provided for him. Shon was a wise teacher, but there were times Kimimaro felt a shred of resentment for what the man was putting him through.

Shon riffled around in the bag and drew out a small pot. He went to the mouth of the cave and scooped snow into it before he settled by the fire again. For a few quiet minutes the man pushed small bone pieces from his arm, and then arranged them so that the pot could be set atop the fire.

"I know you are probably upset with me. We've been travelling for a while with no real home in sight, and you have been training hard in spite of these rough times. You may doubt what I've told you…or believe that I am tricking you..." Shon said, aware of how Kimimaro had been feeling, "I think I owe you a clear explanation of what is going to happen from here on out."

Kimimaro looked up at Shon, glad that his troubles had been acknowledged, "So, what is it, then?"

"I am one of the Seven Shinobi Swordsman, you know this. There are others like me who I need to get in contact with. The first I need to speak to is the keeper of the Master Scroll, our young leader…" Shon showed the boy the tattoo on his arm again, "You remember this? It is a Division Seal, and it sends and retrieves weapons to and from the Master Scroll. Once you have proven yourself someday, you will receive one."

"Why do you need to speak to the leader?"

"Because he is in danger, much like we are." The man sighed, "And I…feel I am responsible for helping him, because I know he would do the same for any of us."

"You said he was young…but he must be powerful. How old is he?"

"Oh…maybe half my age…" Shon estimated, "And he has a younger brother too, who is a bit younger than you, I imagine."

"He will be our ally?"

"Most assuredly."

"And then who do you need to find?"

"Then next swordsman is a good friend of mine. He lives in a place outside of Mist, and we can stay there for as long as we need to. It will be easier for me to train you once we have settled."

Kimimaro nodded.

"Now…I will tell you the real reason we are out here on the heaths." Shon said, taking the pot of boiling water off of the fire, "The leader lives nearby. I will go speak to him tonight. You must stay here where it is warm and rest, as there would be no sense in you coming with me."

"I see." Kimimaro said, quite surprised by their proximity to another swordsman. They were in the middle of _nowhere. _

Shon poured the water into two tea cups with his favorite tea leaves. He and Kimimaro sat and drank the tea, content to finally warm up during the frigid night. When Shon finished he added more wood to the fire to strengthen it, "I will return by morning. _Stay here_, Kimimaro, you are not to leave under any circumstances."

"But…what if you die? Then what do I do?"

"Well," Shon chuckled at the unlikely idea, "If a day passes and I am not here, please use your best judgment to preserve yourself. However this should only take an hour or two. I am very likely to succeed tonight."

He then raced out of the cave, leaving his young ward bundled by the fire.

* * *

At first he was moving blindly in the darkness, but quickly Shon's eyes adjusted to the low light and vague, grey color of the snow. He raced over it, confident that no other living soul, human or animal, would be out in the moorlands on a snowy night.

His landmark was a small cluster of pine trees that appeared somewhat ill-suited for the location. Shon entered the glade and in the dark he could see the lone, glowing light of a cabin. He went up to the house, knocked once on the door, and then let himself inside where it was warm…although his welcome was less so.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" A rough voice ground out from the sitting room, where an ashen, pot-bellied man stood from his chair, "Oh…it's you…we've got no use for the likes of you 'round here, so get out before I put you through a world of hurt!"

"Hello, Hozuki-san. May I speak with your son?"

"Absolutely-fucking-not! Out I said!"

Shon sighed, "I am merely trying to be civil, but this is urgent enough that I suppose I ought not to bother with asking your permission…"

Before Shon began climbing the stairs to the second floor, he noticed something very wrong with Mangetsu's father. He looked more than just sickly…he looked positively horrid. His skin was pallid and…_melting_, as if he had lost control over their family's _Water-Body _ability. He was wobbling where he stood and reeked of alcohol.

'_It appears that would be a Hozuki's great undoing, considering how precious water is for them…he's been drinking.' _Shon considered it, leaping up the stairs and startling Mangetsu. He was shirtless and had a kunai in hand, ready to defend himself.

After seeing who his visitor was he calmed down, "Shon? What are you doing here?"

His father's furious shouting continued from the first floor.

"I needed to make sure you were still alive." Shon told him, "How are you holding up?"

Mangetsu shook his head with a grave expression. He turned away and pulled a sweater on, "Things have gotten really bad. There's nowhere for us to go where we won't be spotted or turned over to Mist…I can't get food or supplies anywhere…many others with abilities have already been captured or killed."

"I know. The Mizukage ordered me to facilitate the destruction of the Kaguya clan."

Shocked, the young man looked back at him, "Are you kidding me?"

"No. I was only able to rescue one child, who I've taken as my student. The only other survivors are those who live at the Yuki estate."

"Oh fuck…" Mangetsu sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his neck anxiously, "I don't suppose he's wiped out other clans or families has he?"

"It won't be much longer, I'm afraid. The rebel forces are growing weaker…" Shon reported sadly, "It's time for you to get moving, you and your brother. You have duties to fulfill as a master of the Seven Swords."

"I know…I was already prepared to leave, actually." The young man agreed, "My dad has lost it. He's drinking himself to death…he's so far gone that he can barely keep his physical form because his cells dehydrated or something…he's fucked. We can't depend on him at all."

"I saw that myself."

"I'll take Suigetsu anywhere where he can be safe. Where do you think we should go?"

"Go to the Loft. Kamisori would never turn you away in such dire times." Shon answered, "It so happens I am heading there myself. As soon as you can be ready take your brother and leave…and stay to the outskirts…Mist patrols are willing to come even this far at times, but I think the snow may discourage them."

"I've got to be careful…he's so young and he has **no **stamina, yet. Suigetsu could die out there even if I took great care of him and avoided enemies."

"Then I suggest you hurry. I would offer to travel with you but I cannot risk my own student."

"Yeah, I get it." Mangetsu muttered, and after a moment of listening to the ambient static of the house, panic came over his features. Crying could be heard from below. Mangetsu leapt up and rushed down to the first floor. Shon followed after him, watching as the young swordsman pulled his father off of a small, shuddering child on the floor who was half-liquid and slowly reforming.

"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't touch your radio…" The child was weeping and shielding his head with his arms, "D-Don't…hit me anymore…I know I shouldn't…t-touch it…"

"Bullshit you little-!"

Mangetsu lifted the man and slammed him against the wall, bearing his sharp teeth, "I told **you **never to hit him _again, _because **you're **the one who _can't_ do what he's told."

"Suigetsu-"

"_IS A KID, _and you don't **get **that." Mangetsu hissed, "You fail in every respect as a father: you let him down, you let me down, and you let mom down-"

"You shut your-!"

Mangetsu caught the weak fist that was flung at him, "You are pathetic. You can't handle how the pressure keeps mounting in this country...you can't accept how things have changed. It's a shame. You can't fight half as well as you can drink, and now you've lost what little ability you had to start. _You don't tell __**me **__what to do; _I am the one who's been keeping _your sorry ass alive!"_

"Let _go _of me."

Mangetsu dropped him and his father swayed on his feet, scowling at his eldest son, but not denying any of the accusations.

"Tomorrow we are leaving, Suigetsu and me. You can stay here and do what you want."

"You can't take my son!"

"I'm his brother, and if he stays here with you…you are going to let him die," Mangetsu said, and he bent down and picked up the sniffling boy from the floor, "The fact is, I'm your son too, and you never gave a shit about me. I won't let you do the same to him."

His father cursed and then reached for a bottle on the mantle, turning back to his radio program. Suigetsu cried into his brother's shoulder as he was carried up the stairs. Mangetsu caught Shon's eye as he was departing through the front door, "Shon…"

"I will see you soon, Mangetsu."

"You definitely will."

Shon disappeared into the night again, and Mangetsu brought Suigetsu to his bedroom, which was little more than a closet with cartoon posters and mobiles of animals and shinobi tools. He laid the boy down in his bed, and helped him scooch beneath his quilt. The boy grew still, his tears spent, and then he rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

"Want me to tell you something good?"

"Yeah…"

"You're coming with me on a mission tomorrow."

"Really?" His excitement briefly overcame his exhaustion.

Mangetsu nodded, "You bet…we need to find the Loft. It's a safe place. I'm going to be training you as a ninja too."

"Finally!" Suigetsu squealed, "And you'll let me use the swords?"

"You need to listen to me, okay? We have to take this one step at a time…you are small and fragile and there is a war raging out there…I won't lie to you. This is so dangerous we could both die…"

Suigetsu fell silent again, unsettled, but he listened.

"There are a lot of things we need to be careful of. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I say run, you run. We are the kind of people who get hunted down…for no reasons other than fear and paranoia…so I need you to learn as much as you can because I don't want you to die. I'm going to teach you how to _survive _first, and then you'll learn to fight later. Got it?"

"I got it." His voice was innocent and frightful.

"Good." He kissed his brother's forehead, "Now sleep. Sleep as much as you can because we won't be safe or comfortable for a while after this…" He stood and pulled on the string to shut the lightbulb off.

"Hey bro?"

"Yeah?"

"Dad's not…coming with us…is he?"

"No he's not."

He sighed, "Thank goodness."

Mangetsu smiled, "Goodnight, Suigetsu."

"'Night…"

And without sparing a moment Mangetsu wrenched a large backpack out of a storage bin and whirled around the room. He retrieved supplies, clothes, and other necessities and stuffed them in the bag, hoping against hope that somehow his delicate baby brother would survive the journey.

'_The swords are getting together…there might be a chance…for us to stop all of this.' _He thought, his hand closing around the Master Scroll, _'And maybe then my brother will be a shinobi of a village he can be proud of. He'll be a swordsman, like us…his life depends on it.'_

* * *

_A/N: Back in the U.S. and I feel like I needed to get the ball rolling. I'm finishing up the new chapter for Harbinger because I am sick of procrastinating. Thank you for your patience. Hope you enjoyed and please review!_


	10. The beginning of a well-read shinobi

_Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body._

_-Joseph Addison_

* * *

Zabuza had been out for a while.

Haku's senses were piqued by every creak of a floorboard and every door-slam in the building. He never lingered beside the window for more than a few minutes, knowing that Zabuza did not want people to discover him. Haku had deduced for himself that his power was the reason why he ought not to be seen. While he appreciated Zabuza's efforts in caring for him, he was quickly becoming restless.

'_I shouldn't fidget…someone may hear me.' _Haku would catch himself pacing, desperate for some kind of fresh air. He returned to his pile of literature, occupying himself as best he could. It was the only company he had kept for hours on end.

He had dog-eared a section halfway through a genin training manual. He had comprehended all of the basic concepts of chakra and types of jutsu, but upon arriving at a technical section about team cooperation and strategies he stopped. Haku decided he would ask Zabuza about the parts he was unfamiliar with. After that, he had picked up a small paperback of fables and morals, which he absorbed rapidly. He moved onto a hardcover that detailed myths about past shinobi.

It seemed absurd that one story suggested a powerful ninja had condensed and lifted the moon in ancient times. Haku had no other explanation for the moon's existence, but he felt as though he inherently disagreed. He read on about wise animals that grew to gargantuan sizes. Reading further he learned of clans and alliances, topics that Haku had an inkling of previously from rumors circulating through the farming community.

He ended up on the couch on his stomach, holding his chin up with both hands. Haku dissected the mythology book that he had propped up on a throw pillow. _'I wonder if Zabuza-san has read any of these…and if he has, if he truly believes any of it?' _It looked as though most of the books had been acquired secondhand or by chance.

When he lived on the farm, Haku's mother had taught him how to read so that he would be able to keep records of harvests. His father had not been well educated but could read enough to get by. There had been little to read back then, but his parents had gifted him with two books that they had saved for in their time together. They had been children's books that Haku could not distinctly recall.

Haku spied a small novel near the bottom of the pile. He tugged at it from the floor and readjusted to be comfortable on the sofa again. He turned it over in his hands to examine it. The book lacked creases and looked as if Zabuza had never opened it. It was younger looking than some of the editions Haku had been flipping through. He paused with the mythology book and peeked into the novel.

"The tale of the utterly gutsy shinobi…" Haku read quietly, "A novel by Jiraiya of the three sages…"

In silence he gave his undivided attention to the book for three hours. Haku was introduced to a protagonist named Naruto, a dedicated and courageous shinobi. As he read about the hero's adventure he thought of Zabuza, who seemed almost a stark contrast. Though Haku knew little of shinobi overall, he understood that Zabuza had seen his share of battles without having to ask the man. It would explain his bluntness and fierce demeanor. Haku was also aware that he would one day become a shinobi, even if it was not by his choice. The character in the story was different from Zabuza, but Haku decided that his qualities were just as admirable.

Haku's favorite story was interrupted by Zabuza's return. He marked his page and set the novel aside before greeting, "Welcome back, Zabuza-san!"

"Hey."

"Would you like me to help you with those?" Haku asked, gesturing to the bags Zabuza was carrying.

"No. This won't take long."

Haku stood and considered how he was going to spend his time now. The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi was of a more personal interest to him, so Haku figured it was best to save it for future reading. As for the other materials he had looked at, he assumed Zabuza would be more willing to discuss them. Haku crossed over to the couch and picked up the books he had looked at.

He sat down at the table with them and watched as Zabuza mechanically put away the foodstuffs.

"Is it true that a shinobi made the moon?"

Zabuza paused and turned slowly to look at the boy. They locked gazes for a moment before he replied, "I can honestly say I have no idea."

Haku held open the page he had read that had an illustration to go along with it. The silhouette of a sage was depicted and Haku tapped it with his finger, "This says the first shinobi made the moon. He did it to seal away a great evil."

"Haku, it's just a legend. Just like you can't believe every story someone tells you, you can't believe everything in books either."

"What about the ninja training manual?" Haku patted the tattered volume.

"That's easily testable and so most of it is true." Zabuza gruffed, shutting a cupboard, "You can depend on it; but it can only serve as a foundation. I will teach you the rest of what you need to know."

Haku flipped it open curiously, returning to the team tactics section, "Will I be part of a team?"

"You will be my apprentice. You'll learn how to work with others gradually." Zabuza elected that feeding Haku would be a good way to prevent him from asking more questions, "What do you want to eat?"

"Are there rice balls?"

Zabuza sighed. He cooked enough to function, but not to impress. What would pass in his opinion for a rice ball would likely resemble a piece of garbage to Haku.

"Sure." He said.

Haku smiled. The man unenthusiastically prepared the rice cooker and looked around for the seaweed he had purchased earlier. While he went about the preparations Haku continued to make observations about the manual.

"Is chakra the thing that makes my power work, Zabuza-san?"

"Fundamentally, yeah, but you controlling your chakra and your Kekkei Genkai are not the same thing." He informed the boy, "You have very good chakra control for someone your age, and so your powers are manifesting early."

Haku briefly checked the table of contents of the manual, "There is nothing in here about that…"

"That's because Kekkei Genkai are unique to the clan they are genetically linked to. No book could give you details about those abilities; they are too many and too diverse. Your Hyoton blood limit is known only to the Yuki clan." The man explained, "I've been around long enough to see a few Kekkei Genkai and how they work."

"So that's how you know?" Haku confirmed.

"Yeah. By now I can sort of tell just by looking at someone, out on the battlefield, anyway." Zabuza said with a faraway expression, "The clans in this country aren't that hard to identify."

He didn't want to tell Haku that he had been sniffing around for a Hyoton-user days before. It was true, though, he could tell right away that Haku had been a candidate for a blood limit. Not that it mattered how Haku felt about Zabuza specifically saving him for his power; it was Haku's circumstance like it or not. The child was not yet complaining.

"My power belongs to the Yuki clan…" Haku was beginning to piece it together, "Then that means that my mother was a part of that clan?"

"There's no doubt about it."

"But why?" The boy's voice cracked, "Why do people hate those with Kekkei Genkai so much?" Haku's fists balled on the table and tears welled up in his eyes, "My mother and I didn't do anything! We never hurt anyone!"

Zabuza crossed over to the boy and placed a hand on his head. Haku quieted down but his shoulders trembled as sadness overcame him.

"Relax, Haku." The swordsman said, "What you are going to realize is that this war is all about people being afraid of each other. A person without a blood limit is afraid of someone who could kill him with one, and a person with blood limit is afraid of someone who will persecute and kill him because of his power. This was all caused by a group of self-important people who needed to place blame somewhere."

Haku shook his head. It still did not make sense to him. How did he and his mother fit into this conflict? He flipped the book shut in frustration, and lowered his head onto his folded arms.

Out of what was a twinge of sympathy, Zabuza patted Haku's small shoulder and then returned to preparing the meal. _'He's just going to have to get over it. Once I get him distracted with training he won't mope anymore.' _He thought to himself.

He put a cup of hot green tea in front of the boy but Haku paid it no mind. When the rice was ready Zabuza dragged a chair up to the counter and barked, "Hey, do you know how to make these? Get over here and help."

The boy's head snapped up in surprise. He stood and sluggishly crossed over to the counter. Haku assisted in shaping the rice that Zabuza spooned out, and in silence they worked together. After a few minutes Haku had the hang of it and he continued the preparations on his own. Zabuza set a bowl of vegetables on the table for his ward and then found himself meat to fry up.

They set dishes on the table and sat down. Zabuza found it an odd thing that he was sharing a meal with someone. In the past it had been such a rare occurrence. Haku was a beacon of youth and curiosity he had always gone without. He was such a fragile creature…it reminded Zabuza of the little girl he had killed on a mission months earlier, at the behest of the Mizukage. The Mizukage. The source of their troubles.

"I don't have a Kekkei Genkai." Zabuza said, "Do you think you can trust me?"

Haku stared at the man, "I think so."

"Why?"

"Well," He took a moment to compose his answer, "How you speak of people who have Kekkei Genkai…it sounds like you are on their side. Also you have only been trying to help me so far…"

"Don't get the wrong idea," Zabuza corrected him, "I am on **no one's **side, and if so, only my _own. _If it's easier to simplify this down to the clans versus the Mizukage, then I should tell you that I hate them both. When I set things right around here they will all answer to me, the only one with sense in this village. If it matters, Haku, you are on **my **side."

Haku was surprised. He considered Zabuza's statement while he took a bite of riceball. After a moment he nodded, understanding, "Yes, Zabuza-san. I think you're right. I will do my best to help you achieve what you need to do!"

"Good. Now eat. You need to start putting on some weight, kid."

His chopsticks flew between vegetables, rice and meat, hoping to please Zabuza. He had a better idea of what the man wanted now and what Zabuza expected of him. It seemed as if he was destined to enter the fray with Zabuza, competing against the clans and the Mist Village. He would commit himself to it, of course, but part of him would always remain with the gutsy shinobi. Haku wondered if one day he could employ the protagonist Naruto's ideals, even if Zabuza was asking for the opposite.

* * *

"Okay, Sori, now just bear in mind that my father is kind of…" Kuina searched for the words, "A…comedian."

Kamisori frowned in confusion, "I thought he was a fisherman?"

"He _is._" Kuina clarified, "But he thinks he's hilarious. If he starts to annoy you…"

"Don't worry about it." The white haired man assured her, "I don't get annoyed as easily as others do."

They had arrived in a small fishing town on the coast. It was a humble settlement on the edge of the forest, devoid of modernity, and each thatched roof had some form of chimney and there were fishing nets hung to dry in every yard. Kamisori found it a very interesting, innocent place. It was an hour away from the Mist Village as the crow flew. It had very little contact with shinobi, save for a handful of genin students who commuted from the fishing town to Mist for training.

Recently, Kuina had told him, the local genin had stopped returning home for fear of being captured. They did not venture outside of Mist anymore, and were given shelter at Kyonjin's discretion so they could get to the Academy every day. Their parents understood the danger, but longed to see their children again. There was no guarantee they would return home until they were full-fledged ninja, capable of defending themselves during a war.

He had learned that Kuina had done the same commute, many years ago. She had been the only genin representing the fishing town at that time. Her father had insisted that she train, which Kamisori suspected was because of the lineage on her mother's side.

Now at her father's doorstep, Kamisori could see that his home was a notch above the others in the community, _'Maybe Kuina helped him out?' _It was a larger home situated on a lagoon, and on the back dock an engine-propelled boat was tied up. A vegetable garden had since frozen over at the side of the house, but by springtime would be yielding tomatoes again. Kuina knocked animatedly and then watched Kamisori's face. He gave her a small, reassuring smile.

Mr. Arashino answered the door after a moment, and with a yell threw his arms around his daughter's shoulders, enveloping her in a warm hug, "Kuina!" They laughed, taken aback by the other's excitement, and then caught their breath.

"It's so good to see you, Dad!" She kissed his cheek and then turned to her companion, "I brought my boyfriend Kamisori with me; he's been looking forward to meeting you."

"Ah…" The older man paused and eyed Kamisori up and down. He looked about Kuina's age and had unusual but attractive traits: white, tufted hair, blue eyes, and expensive clan-clothing that spoke of his heritage. He would not have taken this man as Kuina's type, but it helped when Kamisori bowed respectfully.

"It's an honor to meet you, Arashino-san." Kamisori said, rising up again. He extended his hand and Kuina's father gladly shook it. He was a tanned, fit-looking man who had lost all but a few gray hairs on his head. His eyes were the same bright amethyst as his daughter's. He certainly looked like a fisherman, albeit a well-dressed one, and his smile belied some kind of mischief.

"And it's good to meet you too, at last, Kamisori." The man replied, "Call me Uomaru, please, now come in! Both of you! Welcome!"

He ushered them inside, where the fireplace was crackling lazily.

"How have you been, Dad?"

"Oh, don't fuss over me! It's all the same down here, thank God. Those ninja don't stop by our fisheries." Her father grinned, "The dead-fish smell keeps them out."

Kuina nodded, chuckling, and glanced slowly to Kamisori, _'Here we go…I hope Kamisori can stomach these jokes…'_

They sat down in armchairs by the fireplace and Uomaru put his hands on his hips, "So, what are we having to drink?"

"Is there milk?" Kamisori asked. He had finished the last of what had been in the refrigerator back at home.

"_Did I just hear that?"_ Uomaru hollered, "No! I'm talking about hard liquor! What's wrong with you kids? That hidden village of yours has tamed you! Kuina, you still drink whiskey, right?"

"Dad!" Kuina chided, gripping the arms of her seat, "We're not here to booze up! We want to talk to you!"

"Fine, you lot of party-poopers." He relented, "Kamisori, I've got milk somewhere for you. How about you, Kuina?"

"Water is fine, Dad."

"Total party-poopers…" He exited the living room and Kuina leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"Kuina, he's nothing if not lively."

"I know. I just have to readjust. He's like this with new people…he breaks out the wine and has heart-to-hearts." She explained, "Once we get him chatting he will tone it down a bit."

"Hey!" Her father's voice came from the adjacent room, "What are you two whispering about?"

"You, of course." Kuina replied promptly.

He laughed again when he returned, setting their drinks down in front of them.

"There's your milk, here's my wine and my dear daughter's water…see I put a lemon in it for you?"

"Thank you, Dad."

"You're welcome! I remember how much you like them. In fact, pretty much your favorite thing to eat since you were a kid was lemon." Uomaru turned to Kamisori, "Bet you didn't know that about Kuina, did ya? She was an unusual kid. She said that lemon was her favorite because it was the most exciting thing she had ever put in her mouth."

"Dad…"

"Then she grew up, of course…" He said playfully, pleased with the surprised expression he got from Kamisori.

"**Dad.**"

"Alright, that's enough kidding from me. I'm old and ugly and no one talks to me around here." Uomaru continued, "So what brings you kids for a visit, besides a formal introduction?"

Kuina and Kamisori exchanged a glance, wondering how to approach the subject. Kamisori decided to speak on the matter, since it was all his idea.

"Arashino-san, I won't try to amaze you with stories of where I come from or my work as a shinobi, because none of that will matter to you. I believe what is most important to the both of us is Kuina." The white haired man cut to the point, "I love her. I love her more than my own life, she's made my time on this earth worthwhile and so I have asked her to marry me. What should also be said is that I would not proceed without knowing we had your permission first."

Kuina felt her mouth hang open, dazzled by the profession of love that she had not been expecting. Where was the pomp of Kamisori's achievements? His history as a shinobi? She had to give him credit for being smart enough to set all of that aside in favor of reaching out to her father. Still, she carefully watched as her father's expression went from a stubborn to contemplative look, and then he finally surrendered with a sip of his drink.

"Well, kid, I have to say I know nothing about you." Uomaru nodded to himself, putting his hands on his knees, "Though that sounded pretty dang sincere…"

Kamisori did not speak. He waited patiently for an answer.

"Go ahead!" The man laughed, "Sure you have my blessing! I don't care much what Kuina does because I always know she'll do what's right. She chose herself a fine man, so I figure I don't need to do a background check!" He leaned over and lowered his voice, "But listen to me when I tell you: _if you hurt her I will use you as chum for my drag-net in the southern straits, you got me?_"

Kuina smiled, "Thank you, Dad!"

"Nah, just be happy…"

"Thank you, Arashino-san."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved it off, "So I guess you two have been planning this for a while?"

"Not really, we're keeping it simple." Kuina informed her father, "We don't have time for a ceremony between our missions, so it has to be quick."

"What? No shrine wedding or reception with tons of food for your old man?" Uomaru frowned, "How could you do this to me?"

She shook her head and sipped her water.

"Kuina, I don't care. I would be more upset if I had to drag myself up to Mist, honestly."

"That's what I initially thought."

"So are you staying the night here, kiddo?"

"Yes, if it's no trouble." Kamisori said, adding, "It is better not to travel at night when we may cross into areas controlled by rebels. The daylight is safest."

Uomaru threw his hands up, excited, "Well! The first visitors I have in months and they're shinobi! Maybe a bit unwilling now…but after the wine, ha ha! You may stay another day or two!"

"If only time permitted, Dad." Kuina smiled softly, "Oh! Can I go find the old pictures? I think there is one of my mom somewhere."

"Sure you can look. I think it's up in your old room…in some woven baskets with photos and junk."

"I'll be right back." Kuina stood and went upstairs in a flash, hoping she wouldn't leave Kamisori alone with her father for too long.

"So how old are you really, Kamisori?"

"I will be 30 this year. Why do you ask, sir?"

"You're a bit…" Uomaru gestured to his hair, "Snowy. My God, I mean, even I'm still gray on the five hairs I have left…but I'm twice your age!"

"I was…born looking like this."

"Ahaha! I knew that! Come on, man, it's a joke!" He clapped Kamisori on the shoulder, "Wait here's another: I can't spell Armageddon, but it's not the end of the world! Ahaha!"

He didn't really mean to, but Kamisori smiled just a bit.

"Okay, now you know how smart Kuina is, that's because she takes after me. We can both recite the Periodic Table of the Elements."

Kamisori got the feeling this would lead into another joke, "That's quite difficult."

"It goes: Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen…" Uomaru then leaned into Kamisori and screamed, "OXYGEN!"

He had started a tiny bit, not understanding the point.

"That was the element of surprise, my friend."

Kamisori did laugh quietly at the pun.

"I hear shouting, Dad!" Kuina called down from the second floor, "Cool it!"

There was a brief interlude of silence in which Kamisori was able to get a better look at his surroundings. There was no mystery of what Uomaru favored when it came to decorating. All of the memorabilia and furniture in the room had a maritime theme. Lamps made of old anchors, picture frames trimmed with old twine, glass balls from nets…_ 'None of it seems too contrived. One could still feel at home here, looking at the story of his life.'_

"You like it?" Uomaru asked, referring to the sitting room.

"I do. It's an escape from what you see in the Mist Village."

"Well of course!" He laughed, "Most of it is old stuff I pulled from my boat and reworked! I'd be shocked if Mist had anything like this, though I've never been there to look."

Kamisori was surprised, "Haven't you ever traveled to Kirigakure?"

"Nope, and why would I want to go?" He shuddered, finishing off his glass, "Kuina's told me all about it in her letters. It's a sour deal living there."

"I have to agree." Kamisori replied, thinking of how he too lived away from Mist's agitation.

Kuina came down the stairs cooing happily with a small box in her arms. She sat down beside Kamisori, and excitedly flashed a few ragged photographs.

"Look at these! Oh my gosh…this was my mom, although it's hard to see…" Kuina pointed carefully to a woman grinning in a line of people, "These are her comrades, but this is her."

Kamisori could barely make the black and white image out, but it seemed as though Kuina resembled her mother, _'Maybe the shape of her face…'_

Kuina then moved on to photos of a chubby, red-haired toddler, "This is my big sister, Kushina! She lives in the Leaf Village, so I haven't seen her since I was little."

Chubby Kushina did not look as much like her slim, energetic mother, not in the way Kuina did.

"Half-sister, technically…" Uomaru reminded her, "Your mom brought her here for a little while before they split on orders from Leaf. She was a cute kid with big dreams."

"Why did your mother leave you here, if you don't mind my asking?" Kamisori inquired.

Kuina's joyful expression sobered as she placed a few of the photos back in the box.

"This isn't something we are really supposed to talk about…" Uomaru said quietly.

"He won't repeat it, Dad. It's because my mom asked my father to protect me. She didn't want me to be brought to the Leaf Village to be used in the same way as my sister." Kuina explained, "The Leaf Village didn't know I existed, and so they only requested Kushina."

"For what?"

Uomaru wanted to help out, "Her mother was a refugee kunoichi of the former Hidden Eddy Village, you know, before everyone burned it to the ground. The Uzumaki clan was well known for their powers and ability with, oh damn, what's it called, Kuina?"

"Sealing jutsu."

"Yeah, that's right! Famous for their sealing techniques!" He clapped when he remembered, "They are born with special vitality, and so they live for a long time. Leaf contracted little Kushina because of this, and in return they were allowed to live in Leaf."

"Sealing techniques…I gather that Leaf had something important they wanted to seal away?" Kamisori pointed out.

"Yes." Kuina nodded gravely, "They made my sister the jinchuriki for the Nine-Tailed Fox."

"A young girl?" Kamisori exclaimed, horrified.

She nodded again, saddened, "Oh they usually favor Uzumaki shinobi for it. I never saw her after she went away. From what she's told me in letters, a while ago, it's a beautiful village and…" Kuina chuckled, "She wants to be the Hokage."

"She very well could be, if she wanted." Kamisori muttered, still aghast over the information.

Uomaru held up a photo of Kuina as an infant just before bath time, "Isn't this the sweetest, most unrecognizable lump you ever did see?"

Wide-eyed, Kuina snatched the picture back, "I'm putting these away now! Do _not _embarrass me Dad, or this will be my _last _visit!"

He apologized, but luckily in that moment Kamisori had been distracted by Kuina's irritated face. His thoughts were a tangled mess, concerned about Kuina's Uzumaki lineage, _'How many people know?'_

After cleaning up, Uomaru fed them a brief, filling dinner of beef stew and convinced them to try the wine. Contented with the food and alcohol, both Kamisori and his intended felt their eyelids get heavy. Uomaru then unfolded the couch into a large cot, "Kuina's bed is a relic from when she was a little kid…I figure this will fit you better!" And after saying goodnight, they made themselves comfortable in the dark and watched as the fireplace smoldered what embers were left.

Kamisori felt Kuina press sleepily against his back, beginning to doze off. He was still too shocked to let his mind rest. He rolled over and pulled her lolling form into his arms.

"Kuina," He said quietly, "Could they make you into a jinchuriki too?"

She rubbed at her eyes, "Why are you worried?"

"I am suspicious that perhaps Kyonjin has purposefully kept you close to him." Kamisori admitted, "It may be because he knows you are predisposed as a container…"

She shook her head, "Higa-sensei already negotiated that with him, a while ago. I don't think Mizukage-sama would go back on his word. I'm almost too old anyway, don't you think?"

"I don't know."

Kuina kissed his bottom lip gently, because it was too dark to see the rest of his mouth. She let her hands roam through his cotton-soft hair before she rolled again, positioning herself as a little spoon.

"It's fine, Sori. Just go to sleep." She yawned, "I love you. I can handle anything when I am with you…"

"Alright," He found her shoulder and kissed it, as if staking a claim, "Goodnight, Kuina."

He drifted off to sleep, wondering why he remembered a report years ago about the Nine-Tailed Fox attacking the Leaf Village. His brain was unable to link the fact that Kushina had been an active jinchuriki when the disaster had struck, and the thought dissipated meaninglessly as his dreams waded in.

* * *

A few days passed after the couple's visit with the old fisherman, and Kuina had once again assumed her duties at the hospital. Rama the newly-minted jounin had an arm sprain and mild concussion that she was seeing to. They chatted amiably and eventually the subject of her engagement was brought up.

"Yeah I want to get married too," Rama agreed, "Though I want to do it when this war is over, you know? I just don't feel like I can settle down right now, even if I met the girl of my dreams."

"Rama, trust me, if you met the girl of your dreams you probably wouldn't hesitate." Kuina informed him, "Your priorities change when you really love someone, whether war is raging or not."

He considered it and then nodded, "Maybe. But you went and got Yuki Kamisori, probably the most solitary guy in this village, to fall for you…never would have guessed that one in a million years."

She smiled, "We had to work for it."

Rama cooperated when she fitted his arm with a cushioned sling. She was adjusting the loop when he asked, "So, is he like getting you a ring or something?"

"I don't know. Is that what men are supposed to do?"

"Yeah! Well it's the new trend at least, getting shiny baubles for their women." Rama speculated, "My best friend did it for his lady. She got him one too."

"Oh gosh, should I-?"

"Relax, it's just a _fad, _it doesn't mean anything unless you want it too. If you are marrying someone then you're married no matter what kind of exchange you make, right? As long as its heartfelt."

"Huh, you're a thoughtful young man, Rama."

"Thanks." He stood from the patient-table and checked his shoulder, "Yup, this is good and snug."

"Oh no, do you think Kamisori got me a ring?" Kuina was concerned, "Would he even think of something like that? I was going to be more traditional and look for family heirlooms and stuff."

"Who cares! But you know what? He probably did. He's rich and hip to the latest crazes. Just you wait." Rama looked at her before he went to the door, "Did you even care if you got one before I mentioned it?"

She shook her head laughing, "No, I don't care; I just want to be even with him. I wouldn't want to receive without being able to give."

"Kuina-san, all you _do_ around here is give to people. It's about time someone gave back."

* * *

Today Zabuza had once again donned Black-Ops armor for a hunting mission. Kyonjin fancied catching the Leaf ninja spies rumored to have settled about 10 kilometers outside of Mist. It was bound to be a fun time.

The major drawback to this mission was that he had not been assigned as captain. At first he had been peeved that Raiga had been put on the squad as well, but Zabuza was further disappointed when one of the Mizukage's war-pets, Ao, was appointed leader. Ao was a sensor-type ninja of acute skill and an acclaimed hunter; he was also a prideful jackass about Zabuza's age.

'_Kyonjin wants me to enjoy staring at the back of this asshole's head for the next few days.'_

Knowing that this undertaking would be a handful, Zabuza had provided Haku with a week's worth of food and plenty of reading. He hoped to return in less than two days, but he was certain the boy was capable of avoiding detection while he was gone.

With any luck Kyonjin would not decide to audit him while he was away and check the apartment. On occasion Zabuza did have these fears, but he had no other place to keep Haku at the moment. It was a chance he would have to take, and hope that Haku would not be discovered.

On the team of four, Munsu, a middle-aged, no-nonsense hunter flanked Raiga on the left. Zabuza was ahead of them, just a hair behind Ao to his right. They flew on a southwestern path behind their swirl-marking masks, oriented towards a port town, but planned a sweep of the forest on its borders. Ao had already locked onto several unknown chakra signatures in the woodland they were approaching, his hunch suggesting that is was the targeted group.

Zabuza was confident in Ao's sensory abilities, but chose to be cautious of the man's leadership. If an appropriate time for improvisation arose Zabuza would happily take it. Before moving into the targeted range, Ao had his team halt in the treetops to go over strategies.

"I am absolutely certain these are the Leaf ninja." He informed them, "In addition to that there are four of them, most likely of jounin level. They could possibly be a match for us depending on who is among them, but a swift ambush will give us the advantage."

Ao turned expectantly to Zabuza, "You are the most talented with silent-assassination, Zabuza. This task was made for you. Move in with fog cover but do it quickly, there's a chance they may have a shinobi who can detect you. I will cover you." He then addressed Munsu and Raiga, "Raiga, you deal follow-up damage after Zabuza, and Munsu, interrupt any counterattack they try to make."

They nodded in understanding.

Ao smiled as he gazed out into the wintery forest, "Coming here will be their final mistake."

* * *

As directed, Zabuza promptly moved in for the kill when a blanket of mist had formed. Confused, the group of four Leaf nin wandered briefly in the fog before realizing the danger, but by that point Zabuza was standing between them with the Seversword raised.

There was a shout of fright and then something unprecedented, for Zabuza at least, occurred.

A mighty wall of chakra spun with immense force, knocking Zabuza, his blade, and the other Leaf ninja back and away; dispersing some of the mist in the process. A jounin with long, dark hair and completely white eyes was staring Zabuza down while in an offensive stance. He called to his comrades, "There are more of them coming!"

As per his instructions, Raiga descended with incredible speed, bringing with him a volley of lightning strikes. He successfully struck two of the Leaf ninja, and as Munsu moved in to prevent any counterattacks, it seemed to be a guaranteed victory.

"Leaf Hurricane!"

It seemed to be.

Munsu flew back from the powerful taijutsu assault, hurtling past Raiga who closed in on the fleet-footed young jounin. They danced around each other briefly before Raiga lashed out with another technique, "You're dead! Lightning ball!" His blades generated a screeching orb that would have blown his opponent away, but the white-eyed shinobi dove in and deflected the attack with another rotation.

The young jounin was grinning, "Thank you, Himori, my youthful comrade!"

"Gai, this is **not **the time!"

Furious, Raiga redirected his lightning-style attacks on Himori. Munsu recovered just as soon as the other two Leaf ninja did, and Ao appeared in the snowy clearing to assist him.

This left Zabuza face to face with Gai: the man with a bowl-cut.

'_What the fuck am I looking at?'_

Zabuza had the good sense to create several water clones as a distraction to assess his enemy's techniques. The man was a grinning whirlwind of kicks and punches that wrecked his surroundings. He had never seen anything so asinine in all of his life, and it made his already hair-trigger temper tip over the edge. _'Hack off his limbs first…slow him down enough to separate the head from the body…and silence that mouth!'_

A few swings of his massive Seversword had the young Leaf ninja reevaluating his choice of an opponent. He maneuvered Gai away from the clearing and towards a footbridge over a stream. Zabuza built up momentum and then hurled the blade, forcing Gai to dodge it, and he followed immediately with a powerful jutsu, "Water Dragon Blast!"

The creek was entirely consumed and fired a jet in a bestial shape, blowing Gai away. Zabuza wasted no time in retrieving his sword from the trunk of a tree and diving into Ao and Munsu's action. Ao had pinned a struggling Leaf ninja who was down to his final kunai, and Zabuza took liberties.

He rounded on Ao's catch and raised his colossal blade, focusing his chakra for a technique that was very rarely used. Zabuza's slash appeared superficial as it had barely sliced open his enemy's skin, but as he pulled back on the sword, blood spurted forth in an unnatural torrent.

Ao made a sound of disapproval as his prey instantly collapsed from the dramatic blood loss, and it joined with the Seversword as a new iron-coating. The blade's passive ability was a means of repairing itself and draining foes. It worked best when the sword was actually damaged.

The Leaf nin's comrade made a start to retrieve his fallen friend, but Zabuza loomed over the injured man, "One more step and his head's coming off."

Ao backtracked to Raiga, who was still harassing Himori. Deciding it was an appropriate time to lay more pressure on the team, Zabuza followed him, leaving the last Leaf ninja to collect his mortally wounded teammate.

Zabuza and Munsu circled around Gai, who had become considerably troublesome after opening three chakra gates, _'How could a fool like this have such a skill?'_

They clashed furiously as Gai wielded nunchaku to defend himself from sword-swipes. The two were unnecessarily pummeled and substituted nearly a hundred times before they heard Ao's command to retreat. The captain had an unconscious Raiga hauled over his shoulder. They reacted immediately, knowing the quickest route to put distance between themselves and the Leaf team.

After retreating for several kilometers back into what was deemed "safe" territory for Mist sympathizers, Ao called for them to stop. He looked very, very smug.

"Did any of that accomplish the Mizukage's wishes?" Zabuza growled, "They were a little _too _prepared to deal with an attack."

"Oh we accomplished his wishes, my friend." Ao was grinning as he pulled Raiga from his shoulder, and undid the combination transformation to reveal one of the Leaf shinobi.

As if on cue, Raiga leapt down from a tree branch to join them, lauding the captain's clever idea. Earlier he had made himself scarce after Himori had let his guard down and been knocked out, and Ao made it look as if the casualty had been that of Mist's squadron.

The group stood over the unconscious man on the ground, curious as to why Ao was so pleased with the capture.

"Aside from this one being able to supply us with intel about his team," Ao explained, "This here is a Hyuga! Now look…" He lifted the man's headband to reveal a smooth and clear forehead, "This indicates he is not a member of the cadet branch, which if I have heard correctly…means his Byakugan belongs to us now."

* * *

"Very well done!" The Mizukage was thrilled with the results of the mission, "Now this is a rare find, isn't it? Nearly every captured member of the Hyuga clan has been from the Branch Family…rendering their blood limit untouchable to outsiders."

Zabuza stood beside Ao who had propped up the drugged and unconscious Hyuga in an office chair. Ao had been sure to put their captive under after binding his hands and dragging him back to Mist. Raiga and Munsu stood off to the side, their expressions indifferent to the victory. Raiga had earlier complained that only one Leaf ninja had been killed, and that it would have been more satisfying to leave only one alive for questioning. Ao pointed out it was not worth the risk of injury if they could take just one hostage and leave the rest behind. Konohagakure was more likely to negotiate than to attack in retaliation, unless of course, a whole team was wiped out.

"Zabuza, I am pleased that you made such short work of your opponents, it comes as no surprise!" For once Kyonjin was genuinely delighted to have Zabuza as an underling, "And Raiga! You assisted in a very valuable capture! You two can expect a little extra compensation this week…"

"Thank you, Mizukage-sama."

Zabuza chose not to reply.

After a curt knock on the door Hayago entered. He stopped beside Zabuza and silently regarded him from the corner of his eye as the Mizukage concluded the debriefing.

"Are you here to perform the interrogation?" Zabuza asked the veteran under his breath.

"No," Hayago answered, "I came here to make sure something gets done. This is a delicate situation."

"What is it? The Hyuga?"

"I knew this was going to happen."

Zabuza's eyes narrowed, "_How _could you _know_?"

Kyonjin interrupted the quiet exchange, "Well done, all of you; you're dismissed. Take your leave now. I will be having a few of my intelligence specialists coming in shortly for a…talk with our guest."

"Would you mind terribly if I stayed to make a request, Mizukage-sama?" Ao inquired.

"Not if you're quick about it," Kyonjin said, and then looked expectantly to Hayago, "Any news?"

"Yes. We must speak."

The Mizukage nodded and then repeated, "You're dismissed."

Munsu exited first and was followed closely by Raiga. Zabuza stole one final parting glance over his shoulder at Hayago, who for some reason seemed to be aware of the high-profile capture _before _the news had become common knowledge. Even more curious was the Mizukage's interest in what Hayago had to say. Zabuza left the office, choosing not to dismiss the odd feeling he had about the old jounin.

* * *

It was a relief to find Haku well read, fed and watered back at the apartment. The boy sprang up and animatedly greeted Zabuza. He had not been gone for very long, but Haku had been looking forward to his return.

It was time to unwind. He set Kubakiri Houcho on a display in order to oil and sharpen it later, and then unclipped his Black-Ops vest and pulled it off.

"Why are you dressed like that, Zabuza-san?"

"I was on a high-level mission that required this armor."

"You don't need to wear it all the time?"

"I'd prefer not to. It's conspicuous."

"I see."

"Did you eat enough? Took those vitamins?"

"Yes, I did."

"Good. Sit tight, I need a shower."

And Haku happily skipped back to the couch to where the Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi was dwindling down to its last pages. Zabuza was gone for a while and Haku listened to the sound of water running while he read. It was an exciting feeling every time Zabuza returned from a mission. Now that he had been reading more of what shinobi did, Haku was dying to ask Zabuza what his missions were like. _'Maybe he'll tell me!'_

Zabuza entered the room again in civilian clothes, carrying a work box with items clanking around inside of it. He sat down in a chair beside the display and began to retrieve things from the toolbox. Haku sidled up to him, smiling, and then asked, "So what was your mission like?"

"Hm…you've been wondering about that, have you?"

"Yes! I want to know."

Zabuza gestured to the huge sword he was starting to work turpentine into, "Take a guess, kid."

"Did you have to defeat someone bad?"

"Not bad, more like inconvenient. Leaf shinobi had been spying on the Mist Village."

"And you fought them?" Haku pressed further.

Zabuza paused in his care for the Seversword and smiled slightly at Haku, "If you want to know, you'll have to work for it. Things have been coming to you too easily as of late. You probably would not like what you'd hear anyway."

"Oh, what can I do?"

The man stood and took a bowl from the drying rack beside the sink. He filled it with water and then set it on the table. "You can start by practicing with your Kekkei Genkai. Show me some progress and I'll tell you all about the mission."

Haku frowned, taken aback by the request. So far he had been unable to associate his bloodline ability with anything positive. He had made no attempt to use his power recently, but if Zabuza asked it of him then he would do it.

Zabuza went back to work on the sword and Haku crossed over to the table slowly, contemplating his next action. He understood what he had to do. He had read about using chakra and he had a basic knowledge of how to apply it to his power, but it was the feeling that came with it that made him hesitate. The guilt and anger he had felt on the day of his parents' deaths was still anchored in his heart.

And yet, what business did he have being hung up on the matter? People died every day, he knew, and he understood from the start that Zabuza had adopted him only _because _of his power. If he chose not to develop it, he risked being abandoned. He _had _to learn to wield his Kekkei Genkai, but he _didn't _have to use it for the wrong reasons.

'_I can become a brave and good ninja like Naruto…and protect what's important to me!'_

With a resolute attitude, Haku raised his hand over the bowl and made the water tremble. It came so easily to him, he noted. It was barely an expenditure of effort, unlike what the books claimed. Injecting just a hint of chakra allowed him to pull the water from the bowl, dip it back in, freeze it, unfreeze it, and then finally he launched it into the air, letting it hover playfully over Zabuza's head.

"Huh, and what do you plan to do with that?" The man asked.

Haku let it drop.

A bowlful of water soaked Zabuza's head and shoulders and he grunted in response. He ought not to get angry because 1) it would attract attention and 2) he _had _asked Haku to practice. Before he could give a mild reprimand, Haku had manipulated the water off of him, dried him and condensed it into a sphere. He walked it back over to the table and willed it into the bowl in silence. The man was surprised, _'He's better at that than I thought he'd be…'_

Haku crossed back to his guardian and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Not bad." Zabuza told him, not acknowledging the fact Haku had splashed him without consequence.

"You think so? Thank you. Will you tell me now?"

"I said I would." Zabuza said as pulled a whetstone from the box, "Yesterday I left on a squadron of four to go hunting for a team of Leaf ninja. We were ordered by the Mizukage to capture at least one of the Leaf team for questioning. Our captain was a sensor-type shinobi and so he quickly located our targets. I lead the ambush."

"What is a sensor-type?"

"It just refers to a ninja who is able to acutely feel the presence of or identify the chakra of other people. They are good at finding other shinobi and so they are valuable on teams."

"I'm not a sensor-type." Haku gathered.

"You're not, but who cares? Neither am I."

Haku nodded.

"Anyway, the ambush was a combination between the _Mist Hiding Jutsu _and _Silent-Assassination Jutsu. _Nine times out of ten that will finish off anyone who is not prepared to counter it, however the Leaf ninja had a shinobi on their team who had a Kekkei Genkai that could see in tough conditions."

"He saw you?"

"With a powerful doujutsu called the Byakugan."

"Ninja in the Leaf Village also have Kekkei Genkai?"

"Pft, yeah. That village has tons of unified clans with crazy abilities. They are a force to be reckoned with. For future reference, study the abilities of Konohagakure's ninja well and be prepared for difficult battles."

"I will."

"I used this in combat," Zabuza continued, tapping on the Seversword, "Let me tell you what I did with it…"

* * *

Zabuza completed caring for Kubakiri Houcho well before he finished his tale. Haku even followed him to the sink when he washed his hands, to the bedroom to put away the toolbox, and then back to the kitchen when he began selecting foods to turn into the evening meal. He gave more detail and perspective than any of the books did: those volumes touted the ideal while Zabuza dealt in reality.

"What will happen to the prisoner?" Haku asked after hearing the conclusion.

"Can't say for sure…he may be released to his village for a price, he may be kept in captivity in Mist or executed when he is no longer useful." Zabuza shrugged, "That is the Mizukage's decision."

"That doesn't seem fair."

Zabuza shook his head as he set a pot on the stove, "There _is _nothing fair about being a shinobi. You should be aware of the risks you are taking when you accepta mission. I don't ask anyone for a guarantee that I won't be killed or become a prisoner of war when I walk out the door." He drizzled oil into the bottom of the pot and then lit the burner, "Haku, the fate of that man is probably not going to be a good one, you and I both know that…and that is just one of the reasons why the Fourth Mizukage needs to be eliminated."

"Is he really so horrible?" Haku asked, hopping up on the counter and sitting on the far side of the sink, "He is a village leader and he has to protect his people."

"Let me put it to you this way," Zabuza said as he added stewing meet to the heated oil, "If it weren't for him, many people with Kekkei Genkai would still be alive. He exacerbated the hysteria and hatred of people with blood limits…and it _resulted _in the deaths of many people in his own village. Just because he's the leader doesn't mean he's done anything positive."

The boy sat quietly on the countertop, staring blankly ahead. The news hit him hard, redirecting his anger and frustration at a man he did not even know, but like Zabuza, hoped he could stop one day. His hands fisted in his lap and his thoughts roamed.

Zabuza went back and forth between a cabinet and the refrigerator collecting ingredients for the stew. He let Haku dwell on the thought, hoping the realization would align the boy more with his own principles.

Haku broke the silence, "If he wasn't the Mizukage anymore…would the fighting stop?"

"It probably would. I can't promise that, but if a more open-minded leader took power, that leader would most likely work to end the conflict."

"I see."

Although neither of them said it, they both thought it: _'What if Zabuza became the Mizukage?'_

Once the meat was ready Zabuza added vegetables, spice and flavored stock. Nearly any meal that revolved around meat he could cook rather well. It was his default meal and with time Haku's diet would adjust, _'He needs the protein and he's almost finished taking those vitamins.'_

"Zabuza-san."

"Yeah?"

"I will train hard and do whatever I can to help you defeat the Mizukage." Haku told him, "I promise."

"I know you will." He nodded, putting tea on to boil, "And I promise to teach you everything I know, just don't make the mistake of disobeying me. In times like these, it could cost you your life."

"I understand."

"Hey, while you're over there, grab those bowls and go set the table." He added flour to the pot in increments.

"Oh!" Haku glanced to his left and saw ceramic bowls on the drying rack. He quickly reached out and took them and hopped from his perch.

"Take it easy, we won't be eating for another hour or two."

"Oh right! Sorry." Haku acknowledged, and relaxed as he went about his task.

Zabuza watched the boy from the corner of his eye. It was unusual for him, but he could not deny a growing fondness for the child. He enjoyed Haku's intelligence and hardworking attitude, knowing they were traits that would serve him well as he trained as a shinobi. It was also obvious he possessed a strong and natural command over the Hyoton. While it all seemed to be going his way, time was beginning to run out.

'_I've got to get him out of here soon. Every day that passes is another day a Black-Ops snitch could stop in here to check things out. If we don't find a new place within three weeks I'd wager we'd be pushing it…'_

Haku walked around the table, setting glasses and spoons down.

'_When he's out in the fresh air, out in the wild…then he'll show his stuff. Haku's power will be more fine-tuned than Kamisori's…than that of the Yuki leader, even. I'll watch him soar.' _He looked back to the boy and folded his arms, _'There's no way Kyonjin will survive the two of us.'_

* * *

Night descended and between the two companions they finished off an entire pot of beef stew. An ordeal followed when they had nearly lost the will to wash dishes they were so stuffed, and it was a struggle just to turn the tap on. They collapsed on the couch afterward, and Haku managed a few more pages of "The Gutsy Shinobi" before his eyelids began to droop and his head was lolling.

Zabuza took the novel from his hands and set it atop the stack of books the boy had accumulated. He put them on a lamp-side table and draped a blanket over Haku, maneuvering his head onto a pillow just before he fell asleep. He turned the lamp off and drowned the room in darkness.

Twenty paces across the pitch-black floor Zabuza arrived at the door to his bedroom. Without any further ceremony he walked until his knees touched the edge of his mattress and he fell face-first onto it. Zabuza squashed a pillow between his shoulder and face and quickly found sleep.

His dreams were strange and troubled. For a time he dreamt he was walking through Mist but he was Haku's height and he was tragically unarmed. Though he was shorter than in reality, people treated him with the same suspicion they typically did. He felt himself reliving past battles; felt the twitch and reaction of every muscle as he swung the Seversword and used ninjutsu, abilities which disappeared as his dream continued. A white bird swooped angrily at his head and then took off. He walked past the captured Hyuga on the street, nearly feeling sympathetic for the man, and then finally came face-to-face with Hayago.

The dark jounin's fearsome orange eyes pierced him, and Zabuza instantly felt powerless. Hayago informed Zabuza that he knew many things, and that he knew he was raising Haku in secret. After a moment Zabuza realized he was short and defenseless because he had visualized himself as Haku. He _was _Haku. He desperately tried to use any jutsu to escape. It became cold. Then he woke with a start.

It _was _cold.

In fact, it was _freezing _in his apartment, and he rolled over groggily in his bed before feeling alarm. He detected a worrying amount of chakra in the room beside him, and his super-agility activated in response as he leapt into the darkness and located the boy.

Haku tossed and muttered unintelligible things while he slept on the couch. His nightmare had caused him to manifest his power in reality, which had Zabuza perplexed and convinced he would have to explain the wintery indoor-conditions to his neighbors. Waking Haku could potentially make it worse but he had no other choice. Very carefully, he kneeled down and gently shook the boy's shoulder, saying quietly, "Haku. You're dreaming."

The boy stirred and the rapidly dropping temperature in the room returned to normal. His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a sob, throwing his arms around the man's neck.

"Uh…"

"_It wasn't real?_" The boy confirmed in terror, "_I don't even know how to fight yet…'_

"Calm down, it was a nightmare." Zabuza tried to pull back, but Haku's grip was cemented to him in fear, "You can let go."

Haku's brief crying transitioned into hyperventilating when he seemed to be stuck in a waking-dream, looking at things across the room that weren't there. Zabuza lightly tapped the boy's cheek, "Hey. Hey!" It seemed to bring him back, if only a little, "You can't go nuts in the middle of the night. Guards will be over here like stink on shit."

Haku had ensnared his neck and considering his hold did not waver even when he stood up_, _Zabuza scooped the child into his arms, aggravated, and returned to his bedroom, delivering gentle wake-up slaps to his face, "Hey!"

Haku shook his head and blinked sleepily. His anxiety upon waking instantly tired him out again. "I'm sorry…I wasn't trying to do anything."

"Don't have any more bad dreams."

"I can't help it."

"You've been reading too much."

"What else can I do…" The boy replied tiredly, "I'm sorry."

Zabuza sat down on the bed, deposited Haku in it, and threw the blanket over him, "Go to sleep and do **not **do that again. I swear if I have to explain anything to the night-watch I will have you up every night on caffeine if that's what it takes…"

"Sorry…"

Zabuza fell back, trying to quell his anger before it woke him up entirely, but luckily his full stomach was reacquainting him with sleep.

"Not one goddamn _peep _do you hear me? I will decapitate anyone who…who stops…here…"

Haku answered with a snore.

Then there was peace.

* * *

_A/N: Look! Another rare update! I am graduating from my university in less than a month so I have been quite preoccupied, however after graduation I look forward to writing more. Having said that most of my time will be spent updating Harbinger, which is a very exciting prospect, but this story will also be seeing semi-regular updates as well. Thank you for bearing with me and let me know what you thought of this chapter! I do love me some good reviews and comments._


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